Break My Fall
by YaoiFanBunny
Summary: Solo is dead and Duo finds himself crazy with both guilt and despair.It seems suicide is the only answer.Enter Heero, who is instantly smitten with the grief stricken boy.How can Heero make Duo forget about the love he's lost?[1x2][OOC][AU][ANGST]
1. Begin

**

* * *

**

**RATING[R**

**WARNINGS:** Shounen-ai/yaoi (in later chapters), angst, death, AU, a little OOC

**PAIRINGS: 1x2, past 2+Solo**

**Author Notes:** _Hey guys, this is my new story BREAK MY FALL. It's going to have more chapters so don't worry. This is the first chapter, in which Duo reflects on his past relationship, the one that started the whole sha-bang and will play an important role in later chapters. So while this chapter revolves COMPLETELY Around Duo and Solo, the STORY is about Duo and Heero. So don't worry. Anyways, enjoy. _

* * *

I had always assumed that the people around me paid little to no attention. Growing up in the system does that to a child's ego. Being an orphan, like so many others, I developed bad abandonment issues. I was still a small boy, but I understood the concept of being left alone. And I had been left alone many times since I was born. The Foster Care system could only find me new homes for so long and usually only when I behaved well with them. I remember on my 7th birthday being told by another child at the orphanage that no family wanted a kid as old as I was. I had examples right in front of me, other children much older than I who were stuck in the system until they were 18. No home would take in an older child. They wanted someone they could treat as their own. It's hard to imagine one as your own child if they're already grown and displaying the features of another set of parents. That was my problem. My hair, brown and reaching the small of my back at the time, belonged to someone else. My eyes, almost violet in color, were the DNA of someone else. Time after time I was sent back to the orphanage, to see the same faces of boys and girls older than me facing the same problem, as if they were showing me the future I had in the system.

The first time I had kissed a boy was in the system, at the Church orphanage that I had been shipped back to so many times. I was 15 and taking up a permanent residence there, because no family even tried to adopt someone as old as I was. Many of the kids my age did the same thing; girls in one side of the building, boys in the other. We shared rooms with one or two other kids at a time. As I grew closer to the age of adulthood, I was paired in rooms with kids on the very edge, praying for their 18th birthday. I saw many roommates come and go, as if someone snapped their fingers and they were set free. I wanted to leave like them so badly. I hated being constantly reminded that I was unwanted.

One roommate however, was someone I had known for as long as I could have remembered. His name was Solo and he was only one year older than me. With the age-gap so small, we got along well, so it was a surprise to us that we hadn't been roomed together sooner. It wasn't until our mid-teen years that we were put together. Maybe for good reason.

Solo had told me once that he had always known he was gay and that he never tried to deny it. His honesty was what I liked most about him. He wasn't ashamed to say anything. He always put the truth up front and center, even if it wasn't the most beautiful thing to see.

We were alone late one night, playing cards in the dark on the floor in our room. The game was "War" and he always had a knack for winning. The air was chilly, flowing in through the small window we had opened for air. I was cuddled up in a blanket, leaning against my bed. He grinned widely as I slapped down my last card, a 5 of hearts, not even needing to look down at his deck before he did the same. His card was the Queen of Hearts, trumping me for the 3rd time that night, winning the game yet again. I wasn't surprised in the least, but I still had the decency to look indignant as he shuffled the deck with a triumphant laugh.

"Wanna play again?" he asked, snapping the cards in between his thumb and forefinger. I shook my head. I didn't feel like losing again. There wasn't a point and I was being stubborn.

"Aww, c'mon," he continued, "We don't have to play War. How 'bout Go-fish? You're a little better at that one." I shook my head again, pulling my knees up to my chest as he continued to shuffle the cards aimlessly.

"Poker?" He tried again in vain. "Blackjack?" Every time I said no, his handsome face sunk a bit more. "Duo, man, I don't wanna go to bed yet. I'm wide awake."

"Well," I said sighing, "We could do something other than cards."

Solo sat back, setting the cards on the floor beside him in a pile and putting his hands on his knees. "Like what?"

"We could just…talk or something."

"What are you? A girl?"

"No…I just don't feel like playing anything right now. And what is there to do besides that? The girls get on just fine without having to entertain themselves with games and stuff. Why is it so bad for boys to be the same way?"

He just shrugged. "We can talk if you really wanna. I don't really care. But what is there to talk about?"

We must have sat in silence for a good ten minutes after he asked that question. It seemed boys were really that simple. We didn't have the knack for gossip the way the girls did, and it would seem we didn't mind either. Our silence was comfortable, casual. There was no awkwardness between us, and I loved it that way.

Solo always needed to be occupied. Be it with playing cards or even talking. So his silence at that moment, while comfortable, was a little startling. I lay my head back to rest against my bed, eyes to the ceiling, while his were fixed on the ground. While my silence was empty, his seemed to be filled with thoughts. Solo's mind was always filled with thoughts. His head almost vibrated with the words floating around inside. I didn't bother him. His silences were rare; I could tell it was important, or it wouldn't have rendered him speechless.

The rustle of his clothes as he moved was the only warning I got before he kissed me. I could think of a thousand ways to describe our first kiss, but the best words for it don't exist. I'd settle for simple and soft. He wasn't forceful with me. Solo was never truly forceful when it came to me. His lips ghosted across mine gently, tentatively. I could barely feel them, but the whole while I knew they were there. With my entire being I was aware of what was happening, my skin flushed and my face went incredibly warm despite the cold breeze from the window. Only our lips touched, but I could feel him shaking. We both knew what this act meant; even though it should have been something we could barely comprehend at 15 and 16 years old. Between us there was now an undeniable connection, one neither of us could reject even if we tried

He pulled away when I was unresponsive, but not too far. His lips hovered near mine, so close I could still taste his breath. He looked up at me through his eyelashes, looking somewhat disappointed in both himself and me. It wasn't my intention to make him assume I wasn't feeling the same way. He interpreted my surprise as a rejection. I couldn't say a word even if I had wanted to, so it must have been my face that told him he was allowed to do it again. Whether it was my eyes softening, or my mouth curving into a small smile, even now I still don't know. But he came back to me, as soft as before, with those lips, one of his hands tenderly cupping my cheek. This time, I didn't make the same mistake. I kissed him back, as lightly as he did to me. We didn't need to be down each other's throats. The initial touch was just enough to convey all the emotions in the world. I was overcome by him. His scent, his taste, his touch on my skin was enough to make my heart burst. We had been close friends before, and now the deal was sealed.

That night, we lay in his bed silently and he cradled me like a precious child. Wrapped up in his blankets we watched each other, faces mere inches apart. We were silent as I gazed into his eyes and he brushed the hair from my face with his fingers. Our innocence was intact, which signified a great deal towards our relationship. Neither he nor I wanted to risk "us" becoming a purely physical thing. I needed him as my friend, my companion and that little something more. And as we laid there in his bed, my head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, I knew I had fallen into a deeper love than anything they could have shown in the movies. Solo understood just what I needed because he needed it too. In that moment, I grew up fast. He made my heart ache and my pulse race from just looking at me. There in his bed, our bond was way beyond physical. He's the reason I still need to be held.

From that night on, we were always together. He never left me alone, and my dependency on him grew. Before he had always been a shoulder to cry on, but now it was a shoulder I leaned on. The other kids around the orphanage were shocked as much as could be expected, but they grew to understand and some, even respect our connection. Solo was my lifeline, as I was his. He was the stronger of the two of us. I had always curled away from social interaction outside of the orphanage, it scared me how he could be so friendly to everyone. I had never wanted to get attached to anyone for fear of being abandoned. Anyone but Solo. I would lay with him every night in his bed our fingers entwined; he would kiss my lips softly and remind me how he would never leave me. I would tell him that I knew he wouldn't and that I trusted him.

He would tell me he loved me more than anything else in the world.

I would tell him I loved him more than words could possibly describe.

Pessimists always say that when you climb so high, you have so much further to fall. I should have known better, I should have listened to pessimists everywhere. But I couldn't. Because Solo was right in front of me, giving me all the optimism that I needed. He was sinfully beautiful, innocent as an angel and he cared for me only. I was always put before anyone else, including himself, something I was constantly telling him I felt guilty about. But he would always just kiss my nose and smile that heart-breaking smile he had and tell me not to worry. I thought we'd be together forever. That's the kind of effect he had on me.

At midnight on the eve of my 17th birthday, we lay in the familiar spot, entangled in each other's limbs, silent as usual. My eyes were closed, but I wasn't sleeping. I was just breathing his scent, revelling in the warmth of his body. I could feel him watching me, the heat of his gaze encouraging me to open my own orbs sleepily to look right back.

He looked…peaceful as he smiled at me, running his finger over my bottom lip. He was turning 18 a week after my birthday, a thought looming overhead like an anvil. For once, neither of us wanted to be an adult. He didn't want to leave me here alone. I could tell it was on his mind.

"I love you Duo." He said softly. "Happy Birthday."

With that he swooped in for a kiss. A kiss so tender and sweet that even years later I can still remember the tingle of his lips on mine. I kissed back as naturally as breathing. This time was different, as the kiss lasted longer than any before. When we broke apart, we were both breathless, but stayed in a proximity close enough it was as if our lips were still joined. Our eyes were locked; he was staring into my soul. Solo was just so breathtakingly amazing to me. There were times when I told myself I'd only die happy if it were in his arms.

In that moment, he whispered something into my lips that I knew would prove to be the biggest spiritual connection of all.

"Let me make love to you." Were the words that sent my heart pounding. And all I could do was nod as he kissed me again.

Our joining for the first time was nothing short of overwhelming. He took care in not hurting me, treating me as if I was a fragile doll, not to be handled too roughly. He was absolutely perfect, and I was so glad we'd waited until he thought I could handle it. I must have screamed out his name a million times, letting him know how amazing he was and how good I felt. Afterwards, when we laid there, an action we did every night, everything seemed so much more intimate. Like the world existed for the two of us only and no one else could come inside and see the wonders the way we did. Everything was right and correct with Solo.

"I love you Solo. Don't ever forget it." As I said this, he looked at me with loving eyes. But something more was there. At the time I had no idea what it could have meant. He nodded and replied with the same words, which he said a lot but I never got tired of hearing.

A week passed. 2 days before his birthday I fell ill. The flu had been circling around the kids in the orphanage like wildfire, so it didn't come as much of a shocker to anyone when I began to puke up my dinner. Solo had been telling me all day that I looked pale and was constantly feeling my forehead to see if my temperature was normal. Needless to say, when the chicken and vegetables came up, he panicked. I was shooed off to our room so as not to spread the germs. Solo refused to let me go alone and accompanied me as I leaned heavily into his body feeling dizzy. He laid me in his bed and retrieved a bucket from underneath the bathroom sink. He could have been my mother the way he fawned over my pathetic sick body. He got me a glass of cold water and a wet facecloth to put on my head. He didn't leave my side all night, sitting on the floor next to the bucket, pushing my sweaty bangs out of my face and reassuring me that everything was going to be all right. When my clothes became damp with perspiration, he changed me out of them, laying me under the sheets with only a pair of boxers on. I had a fever and a pretty high one too. The thermometer pinned me at 103 degrees Fahrenheit. I was breaking out into cold sweats and even when I tried to sleep I would wake up shivering.

Solo began to get uneasy. He couldn't stand to see me suffering; it was slowly breaking him up inside. The orphanage was low on medicine because of all the other kids getting sick and there was no more Tylenol to stem my pain.

I remember him grabbing my hand later that night and coming close to my face.

"I'm going to the pharmacy to get you some pain-killers" he said. "I shouldn't be very long." I shook my head and clutched his fingers as tightly as I could with my weakened muscles and told him I didn't want him to leave. He kissed me softly and told me not to worry. "I love you. I'll be back soon, baby."

With that he stood and shrugged on his jacket, pocketing some money and turning towards the door. Solo turned back for only a moment to smile sadly at me and then he was gone.

I must have fallen asleep or gone into a daze because before I knew it I was jumpstarted awake. My eyes scrambled to the digital clock on the bedside table; 12:30. He's been gone for two hours. My heart began to beat fast. It didn't take that long to go to the drug store and back. It was only two blocks away and open 24 hours. My nerves felt like they were burning through my skin. I stumbled out of bed, nearly collapsing from dizziness and dove for the door. I swung it open with vigour I shouldn't have had, as sick as I was. All the lights were on in the hallway as I peeked into the narrow corridor. The other boys were up and chatting loudly, people rushing from room to room and into the church.

"What's going on?" I croaked, by voice sore from my enflamed throat. No one heard me. I staggered down the hall, bracing myself against the wall and into the kitchen where the nuns were gathered looking frantic, chattering away so fast my poor, sick brain couldn't understand what they were saying. When they spotted me, they all went silent.

"What's happening?" I asked again, a little louder this time, cringing as my throat stung.

The head Nun, Sister Helen came up to me and hugged me tightly. I knew this couldn't be good. With that one hug, it was like all of my fears were brought back to the forefront.

"There was an accident." She said softly, her grip tightening on me as if she knew I was about to collapse. "An accident…with Solo."

I felt my blood turn to ice. No.

"No, this can't…it doesn't work this way!" I rasped.

"On the way back from the pharmacy-"

"NO!" I screamed.

"-A driver hit him on his bike. It was dark out. Solo rushed out in front of him."

"He promised me!" I tried to push her away, but she held on tight. The other nuns in the room began to tear up, when I looked at them hysterically. "He promised me he'd be back soon! HE WOULDN'T LIE TO ME!"

"It was an accident!" Sister Helen was ready to cry, I could hear it in her gentle voice.

I shoved her forcefully away from me and darted out of the room as fast as my light-headed body could take me. I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, even though I hadn't noticed them before. Solo was hurt. It was something I thought I'd never have to deal with. He was always telling me that things were going to be fine. He lied to me.

I raced wildly into the dimly lit church, among the pews trying to find the one man who could help me.

"Father!" I cried out, sobbing. I buckled to my knees a few feet away from him. "Father you have to help me." My voice was so run with distress I was barely understandable. "We have to help Solo. We have to go." The older man rushed to my side and held me close.

"Duo, you're sick! You should be in bed!"

"It doesn't matter! Solo matters! Where is Solo?!"

"Solo went to the hospital! You shouldn't be running around! You could get more sick!"

"FATHER, YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME! I need him! I need him! He can't just do this to me!" I pounded his chest with my frail fists, grabbing at his priest's garb.

Father Maxwell grabbed my wrists and pulled them away as my body heaved dangerously with choking sobs. I was frenzied and could barely pull in a full breath.

"I'll take you to the hospital. But I really don't think this is good for you. You're not in a good state."

"I don't care!" I screamed. "I need to be with him! He can't just leave me like this."

The drive to the hospital was one of the longest rides of my life. It seemed to take forever. Every time I would calm down into a soft hiccupping, the thought of Solo, my Solo, lying motionless sent me into fits of tears again. The Hospital was a cold, sterile, impersonal place. I was scared. No, I was terrified of this place. I knew this place couldn't help him.

Father Maxwell went up to the nurse at the desk and asked for Solo. The woman looked solemn and I started to shake.

"He's in emergency surgery right now. It looked pretty bad." She said.

"Will we be able to see him?" Father requested.

She shook her head. "Not right now. Maybe if the surgery goes well. But I doubt it."

Father Maxwell turned to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "See Duo, we should just go back to the Church. We can wait for some news there. We need to get you back in bed."

"NO!" I shouted, startling some of the patrons in the waiting room. "I'm staying here! I won't leave him!"

Hours past in the cold room, my nerves on end the entire time. Could the accident really have been that bad? I didn't really know anything about death. I was neglected as a child, sure. But I'd never been abandoned in this way before. My Solo. It was hard to imagine him in any sort of danger. He was never that kind of kid. He was my protector. I always knew that it was something I should have felt guilty for. He always told me not to worry. In ways, I saw then how much he needed my protection as well. The one time he truly needed it, I wasn't able to. And now this.

A man wearing blue scrubs and a face mask emerged from the swinging doors leading to the operating rooms. He approached Father Maxwell and I, wearing the same solemn face that the nurse at the desk had. I assumed the worst the moment I saw him.

"The young man is out of the operating room, alive. But he's not in a good state. He needs to be kept here under constant surveillance."

The last bit went unheard by me. The word alive seemed like the most wonderful thing in the universe at that moment. I was blind to how close he was to death, just as long as that last thread hadn't been cut yet.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Father Maxwell asked. "What were his injuries?"

"He had 6 broken ribs and a punctured lung from the initial impact. Hitting the ground head-first is what really got him. It was cold outside, so he's running a fever. A pretty bad one."

"Can we see him?" I asked anxiously.

The doctor looked tentative. "Maybe for a little while-"

"What room is he in?"

"Uh, just down that hall and to your right…huh? Wait-!"

I took off running down the hall as fast as I could, hearing both the doctor and Father Maxwell telling me to come back. But I couldn't. It wasn't in me to wait another minute to see him. It probably wasn't a good idea to let a sick person in to see a boy fresh out of emergency, but I needed him. I needed Solo more than I needed air. I needed to know that he was going to be okay.

Solo looked so small and weak laying there in the huge hospital bed. There was a breathing mask over his mouth and nose and tubes sticking out of him, everywhere. There were machines monitoring his temperature, heart-rate and other important things that I couldn't understand. His eyes were closed, unconscious. My heart broke at the sight of him. I almost could find the courage to walk to his bedside. But my conscience was telling me to go, that he needed my protection now, more than ever before. He knelt by my bedside when I was sick, so now it was my turn. I stood over my poor, broken boy and grasped his hand, entwining our fingers like it was any other day. His flesh was cold underneath my touch. I could feel my eyes begin to water again.

"Baby," I said to him softly, "I'm here. Don't worry. Everything is going to be okay." I repeated the words he said to me all too often, back to him. I wanted him to know, even though he was unconscious, that I was now protecting him as best I could.

I stayed through the rest of the night, falling asleep in the chair beside his bed, shivering from my own fever, though never letting go of his hand. I dreamt that he had woken up and we went back to the orphanage together. He had told me once before that when he turned 18 and moved out that he would get a job fast, so he could support me, get me out of the orphanage sooner. We were excited. We were happy. Now it all seemed null. At this moment, the only future that mattered was the one where he got better. The one where he didn't leave me all alone.

The sound of the steady heart-rate monitor beating faster is what woke me up. Groggily I looked at my lover as the red line on the screen became jagged. His temperature had gone dangerously upward and his face was contorted in a face of pain as sweat broke out over his brow.

"What's happening?" I asked loudly. "Nurse!" But she was already bustling her way into the room, whipping out her stethoscope.

"He's crashing!"

"What?"

"Get out of the way!" She ordered me like a mother would a disobedient child as she paged the nearest doctor.

"Solo?"

My eyes grew wide as more nurses rushed into the room. A pair of hands grabbed me around the waist and began to drag me out of the room. I struggled against them, my eyes clouding with tears.

"NO! NO! Let me go! I have to save him! I'm the only one who can help him!" I reached out my arm for his hand, but I was pulled out of reach. "LET ME GO!" I screeched, scratching at the hands clamped on my waist.

"SOLO!" I yelled "Wake up! Wake up PLEASE!" the tears rained down my face more than they ever had before. My world was breaking, shattering into a thousand pieces. "OH GOD! Solo! No! PLEASE!" I thrashed wildly as the door came closer.

My eyes tried to focus on my lover through the ruckus. My skin turned cold and I froze when his heart-rate monitor turned into a small, thin, straight, red line. The room went dead silence and the doctor turned off the machines. My eyes went wide, shock filling my entire being. I stopped moving. I stopped breathing.

"Time of death, 3:13 am."

Those words echoed through my head and smashed me harder than anything physical ever could. I became jelly in the hands that were grasping me, dead weight as I fell straight to the cold, tile floor, screaming his name over and over again. Shouting to God in Heaven how much I loved this boy, begging him not to take Solo away from me.

But it was no use. The one person who I believed would never leave me was gone. He was out of my reach now. My life wasn't worth living at that very moment. Guilt surged through my veins. I knew I would surely burn in hell for causing this.

If I hadn't gotten sick, he wouldn't have had to go to the pharmacy. 'Us' wouldn't have ended so soon.

I loved him more than words could describe.

* * *

**AN:** _Wow. Heavy chapter_._ So yes, like I said above, while this chapter is DuoxSolo, the rest of the story revolves around DuoxHeero. So don't worry, 1x2 fans! I won't let you down._

_As kinda an off-topic note, I named this story 'Break my Fall' after a song of the same name by **DJ Tiesto feat.BT**. If you enjoy techno music, i encourage you to check it out. I listened to it the entire time I was writing this fic and I think the air of the song comes through in the story. _

_Anyways, Read and review, as per usual._

_I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT ----- Yaoifanbunny_


	2. Romanticized

**Break my Fall**

_Chapter 2: Romanticized._

**

* * *

**

**RATING: R**

**WARNINGS: shounen-ai / yaoi (in later chapters) death, angst, OOC, AU**

**PAIRINGS: 1x2 , past Duo + Solo**

**AUTHOR NOTES**_: Hey guys, here is a new chapter for you, hot off the presses. I think i got it done in an acceptable amount of time. And a fair amount more than usual too. This whole story, when i'm typing it up on MICROSOFT WORD, Is either 7 or 8 pages. Usually they're 3-6 pages long. Hahahaha. Improving much. Well, I hope you all like this chapter. Duo is getting better! Yay. No Heero yet. Bummer. Patience, lovelies. It's a virtue._

* * *

Shakespeare was one of the greatest tragedy writers in history. His plots were so heartbreakingly sad and helpless; the reader feels the despair of the characters coursing through their veins. I had read quite a few of his plays during my childhood. I was one of the kids at the orphanage that was "home schooled". Sister Helen devoted much of her time to teaching the kids the basics. The orphanage and church couldn't afford to send all of the kids to a regular school. It was mostly the children who were too old to be adopted that were home schooled. It was a good environment and I learned a lot. My favourite subject had been English. Father Maxwell would lend me his old novels, the classics like Moby Dick, Oliver Twist, and of course, The Complete Works of Shakespeare. While I enjoyed the comedies the British playwright had concocted, I had always felt more of a connection to the tragedies.

The hours after Solo's death seemed like years. I might have blacked out from a mix of the fever, exhaustion and trauma, because I don't remember the ride back to the church. When I was shaken out of my stupor, I was lying in my bed; a place I hadn't been in months. It felt like a cold, unwelcoming place to be. As my mind became aware of where I was, why and the events previous, I began to cry again. The tears that flowed from my eyes felt like a never-ending waterfall. I could have cried forever. The future seemed bleak for me. I still couldn't believe the ordeal.

I went through a serious stage of denial. In my mind, it didn't make sense. I had been good to God, went to church every Sunday, and had my communion, confession, and confirmation. In the end, he still took the one person I loved away from me.

After thinking about it a great deal, amongst tears and aggravation, I figured it was just that. Solo and I were special. Our love was not something approved of in the Bible. Our love was an abomination, a sin. The reason for God's cruelty to us was because of our homosexuality. He separated us in the most extreme way possible.

I was angry. My life was like those tragedies I would read as a younger boy. I was the main role in the story, trying to find my way after the death of an important character. My part of the plot should have come to an end already.

Maybe it was the deep-set depression I had let myself fall into, but exactly one week from my Solo's death, I decided to commit suicide. Our world was like Romeo and Juliet. For a while, I had believed if I'd wait it out, the metaphorical sleep-potion would rub off and he would awaken. I wasn't going to make the same mistake Romeo had. But when Solo failed to wake from his sleep, I knew that it was safe to say he was gone. When he was buried in the graveyard behind the church, I had the answer I needed. I wouldn't let God keep us away from each other. It wasn't even a choice; in my brain it was something that needed to be done. There was no doubt. Romeo hadn't thought twice about downing the poison upon seeing his love supposedly dead. I don't think I ever thought twice about doing the same.

The staff at the hospital became very well acquainted with me the over the next while. So many attempts, so many failures at taking my own life. There were far too many people at the orphanage, I was too easy to find. I must have tried everything.

Selfishness is something no one should be proud of. I'm definitely not, but it seemed then, I was consumed by it. Humans love to eat the fruits of their selfish behaviour, indulging in the sweet nectar of thinking only for oneself. It is almost like an addiction, a high that a person would get. It creates a mind with tunnel vision, completely focused on the goals of only you, with much disregard for others.

There are many who have been able to overcome this temptation. There are many who seek a much more rare fruit, one that is harder to obtain but infinitely more delicious. This is only gained from taking into account the emotions and situations of those around you.

Unfortunately for me, I was drunk on the fruit of selfishness. The only thing that mattered was MY happiness, which would be acquired only from my suicide. Regardless of whose hearts would break at my death, I plunged deeper into a dangerous cycle. Each attempt at taking my own life was foiled, and digging the orphanage deeper into a steep pit of medical bills. All the while, I was barely aware of it. I couldn't care less. Sister Helen was always on the edge, jittery, stressed out. When I wasn't trying to kill myself, I was angry. I was always upset, mad at Sister Helen, Father Maxwell and the other kids. I had even thrown fits at some of the worshippers at the church for spoiling my chances at reuniting with my love. I realize now what a terror I must have been and I'm thankful every day that they didn't turn me out into the street. I think they knew that if left alone, I would surely be dead by now. I was immature, unrealistic and conceited; they cared for me all the same. I wasn't ready to handle loving and losing. It had been too early.

My condition worsened over the following year. I was reaching my 18th birthday with no signs of improvement. The orphanage needed to make room for the other kids coming in. I couldn't loiter around there after my time to leave had come. I was a burden on them, and the thought of that added to my depression. _They'd be better without me_. I would tell myself that over and over _I'm just eating up space, food and money they don't have._ Maybe in the back of my mind, I cared for them during that period, even though it seemed like I was focused completely on my own death. I was thoroughly convinced I would be better off deceased.

I don't remember my exact thoughts when I decided to come to my senses (if you can call it that). What I do remember were the circumstances. How could I possibly forget?

My latest attempt at self-destruction was probably the most gruesome. During the entire ordeal I had refrained from marking my body with sharp objects; in a sort of perverse way I thought that when Solo and I re-united in the afterlife he would want my body untouched. But this time I was far too frustrated to care. "_Solo would understand."_ I would reason with myself. _"I'm doing this for him."_

The night was warm and sticky, the moon full in a cloudless sky. But I wasn't concerned with anything of the sort. Everything faded into the background when I concentrated on something as important as this. Everyone was settling in for the evening, most of the kids lazing about in their rooms and reading or playing cards. Every so often, one of the younger children would come into my room to check on me. It was supposed to be a secretive rule that Sister Helen set up, since she couldn't be at my side all day. They would always come up with ridiculous reasons why they passed by my room, popping in to say goodnight, or to ask to borrow a pair of socks. I knew about it of course; I had lost it on one of them, demanding to know why everyone was bugging me. I could understand that Sister Helen was busy, what with running the school program she had, doing her Church duties and managing the choir. The other nuns helped her cook dinner and do the chores and it was still a lot on her belt. But it was unforgivable to me; it was an annoyance that I couldn't avoid. They had caught on.

This particular night, it was the same. Every 30 minutes or so a child would wander down my end of the hall and peek in, trying to look subtle. I would watch in a sort of aggravated amusement, keeping tallies on how many times the same boy would come around. I soon figured they worked in shifts. Certain days with certain a certain order. It was good thing in a way, because I knew the characteristics of who was coming next. I knew the ones I could fool and manipulate.

It was around 8 o'clock and I was almost time for little Jonathan to hobble awkwardly down the hall on his recently sprained ankle. I readied my supplies, hiding the razor in between my facecloth and towel. When I heard his huffing and puffing just outside my door, I made myself look busy. Gathering my dirty clothes, straightening out my bed sheets and other mindless activities.

Jonathan braced himself on my doorframe, knocking it slightly with his small fist. "Hey Duo!" He said with a chipper smile on his face. The poor kid was only 7. "I was wondering if you would read me a story. Herbert is being mean about it, saying I'm too much of a baby to read it myself." Herbert was his roommate, a rather cruel kid when he wanted to be. I could tell Jonathan was a bit nervous, his eyes flitting around my room, then back to me, his hands shaking as one of them gripped a small book of fairytales.

"Sorry Jon." I said flatly. "I'm going to take a bath right now. Why don't you go ask someone else?" I was being cold, even to the young boy. That was the type of sick monster I had become. And I had been so approachable before.

"A b-bath?" He asked with a stutter. The last time I had gone in for a bath, it was with the small toaster from the kitchen. And it was plugged in. Luckily, for them I hadn't pushed into the socket far enough and no electrical charge went through. I was caught red-handed, wet and with a now broken kitchen appliance. And I could tell Jonathan was thinking the exact same thing.

"Don't worry." I reassured him emotionlessly. "You can check the bathroom for anything electrical. I'm not stupid."

He just shook his head in reply, waving his hands to say he didn't need to check. I grabbed my towels and turned rather sharply into the bathroom joined to my room.

"What is that?" I heard his small voice ask. He hadn't left yet? I set my towels down on the toilet and re-entered my bedroom, looking at him impatiently. His eyes were glued rather obviously to a small silver rectangle on the hard floor. _Shit_

"Uh…" I bent over to pick it up, wracking my brain for an excuse or an alternative use to the object. "I, uh…use it to shave." Well it wasn't a complete lie. I didn't use it to shave; I had taken the razor blade from Father Maxwell's personal medicine cabinet. HE used it to shave. "You wouldn't wanna see me with a beard as long as Santa Claus' would you?" I tried to make light of the situation, knowing he was more likely to buy my story if it wasn't a serious as it should have been.

I was right. Jonathan studied me for a moment, as if he was picturing me with Santa's beard before he broke out into a wide smile.

"You'd look ugly!" he said with a giggle, turning right back around and hobbling back down the hallway to his room.

"Thanks?" I huffed grudgingly when he was out of earshot and re-entered the bathroom, razor blade now firmly pinched between my thumb and forefinger.

My bathroom was small. When Solo and I shared the room, we would always save water by bathing together. That was the sort of comfort we had around each other. It didn't even become sexual until our one night together.

The bathtub and shower were combined and I opted to bathe, going over to the taps and turning the knob for hot a generous amount of times. Steam rose into the air softly, building in clouds and fogging up the mirror. I took in the sights, like I would every time I attempted suicide, knowing that it was the last look I'd have into the world of the living. The white tile floor began to get slippery with the steam, the shower curtain's folds sticking together for the same reason. My towels lay on top of the toilet lid, folded perfectly by Sister Helen earlier that day.

The tub filled quickly with murky water, the bar of soap sitting on the bottom of the porcelain bath. I stepped inside, setting the razor on the edge of the tub. I'd wait until after I was clean.

It was a long time before I could think myself sufficiently cleaned. My hair has always taken me forever to wash, and I used up shampoo by half the bottle every time. When the time came, I believe I was more nervous than any time before. I wasn't fond of slow deaths; something that had been enforced by Solo's own passing. The slitting of ones wrists isn't something that's over quickly. I sat with my back propped up against the wall, gripping the blade with slimy fingers, staring at my stark white wrists. I hadn't been eating well, and it showed. Gritting my teeth, I slid the blade across the veins and arteries under the flesh. Small red lines appeared and I winced as the stinging pain begun. It was better when it was instantaneous. I hated this feeling. But I did it again, this time down along the veins, making an X shape in the skin. The cuts were deep, I was focused, but in pain. With my now weak arm I did the identical to my left wrist, watching the trickling red liquid drip down my arm and dissipate in the water beneath. I let my limbs sink under the surface of the bath water, watching as it slowly turned a sickening shade of orangey-brown. I had expected the sight to be prettier, I suppose. I had always imagined that the blood would stay red, swirling in the water before my eyes, turning the other liquid the same shade. The soap stung at the cuts and my face was twisted into a face of anguish. I could feel the heat drain from my body, despite the temperature of the water. I could sense my life drifting away with every pulse of my beating heart. Even the slightest blink became a conscious effort. I was aware of my brain telling me to breathe, to blink, to look around the room. The edges of my vision were starting to fade to black as I slipped under the water, too weak to hold myself up. I could taste the metallic sting of blood mixed with the other liquid, something disgusting. At that moment, I knew that I would never want to experience death in this way again. I was confident that this was the last time I would ever need to try. The next round of children to check up on me wouldn't be for another half hour. As my eyes slipped closed, I could hear the sound of knocking, then a loud bang. Screaming and crying rung softly through my ears. Then suddenly, everything went quiet.

I opened my eyes to find myself in a place that felt familiar. It wasn't a good familiar, but it certainly was a comforting one. My eardrums vibrated from the silence. Everything with black. I'd experienced this enough to not panic. It was all a matter of time.

"Hey."

A voice as loud and beautiful as the chorus of one thousand angels was the only change in the recognizable blackness of the death I'd come to know. This is the one sign I'd looked for every time, but failed to receive. It was the sign that I'd finally succeeded. Before my eyes he appeared, as wonderful a sight as the day he walked into my life. But somehow, he looked tired; the eyes I'd come to love were weary with sadness.

"Hey." He repeated. "What are you doin' here?"

I reached out to my lover, trying to grasp his hands in mine like I'd waited almost a year to do. But he backed away from me. "Solo!" I cried out. "I've come here for you." It was just the two of us, shrouded in a blackened cloud of nothingness. "I wanted to be with you. I've waited so long."

"No." He said simply. "This is wrong."

While his words were blunt and honest like the Solo I knew, I was shell-shocked by them. After all the time had passed and I'd finally succeeded in the one thing I'd done for the both of us, he didn't want me.

"Duo, this is wrong. You're not supposed to be here. You belong back there. It wasn't your time."

"What are you talking about? I did this for you, Solo. Because we're supposed to be together." But he shook his head at me.

"Duo, you're still so young. You need to go and live now. You have the rest of your life ahead of you-"

"SO DID YOU!" I shouted at him. Of all the things I had expected to happen, this wasn't it. I didn't want to be rejected like this. He was telling me the same things the nurses and doctors had told me. I didn't have a life if he wasn't in it. No one could understand that fact but me.

My Solo walked back to me, taking up my wrists delicately in his slender fingers and turning them over. My cuts were clean, the blood washed away, but deep enough to see the flesh punctured and separated. Solo looked about ready to cry.

"You know I wouldn't have wanted you to do this, Duo."

"But I love you."

He smiled at me, as he kissed my wounds. "I love you too, Duo. With every bit of energy of my spirit. And that is why I want you to go back and live happily. If you're not doing it for yourself, do it for me. Do it for the life I never had."

My eyes began to water and my throat constrict in a silent sob. Solo embraced me, but it felt like he wasn't even there. In that embrace, he suddenly pushed me, shoving me away and fading into the blackness. The moment was gone. My brain latched on to his last words, ringing in my head like a mantra. I reached out, but all that was left of him was the whisper of his voice, saying my name in repetition. My world spiralled and I became incredibly dizzy. My head pulsed and ached as if I had fallen from the roof of a skyscraper. I felt like I was falling and my stomach leapt into my throat with vigour.

My eyelids opened for a second time, though I had never closed them during my encounter with my love. The lights were bright and burned my retina with a throbbing pain. I shut them again and tried to open them one more time, blinking and groaning in agony.

The sounds of the room were fuzzy, but I could make out my name among the white noise. I became alert to someone grasping my hand tightly, and the all too proverbial florescent lights of the hospital. My vision slowly cleared and I could see doctors and nurses standing over me, checking my pulse and monitoring the machines. They all had smiles on their faces, looks of relief and fatigue evident in their eyes. But I cared not for them. They weren't important. I turned to see who was grasping my hand so tightly, shaking.

Sister Helen looked horrible as she sat in the chair next to my hospital bed. Her eyes were red from either crying or lack of sleep. My guess would have been both. She looked pale and gaunt, much like I had looked these past months. Sister Helen had aged more in this time than I could ever imagine. I wasn't good for someone of her age to worry so much. Tear trails stained her cheeks and in her other hand she clutched her rosary.

In that moment, I recognized her more than I had before. In this wonderful Nun, I saw myself on the night that Solo died. Sitting in the chair beside the bed, holding the hand of the fallen, crying and staying up into late hours of the night. Never leaving my side. I truly believe that that was the moment I realized that some people did understand me. There were people I cared for who went through the same thing I did, except for many times over. I had felt like hell when Solo died and the feeling was matched in Sister Helen, except worse. She had to experience the death of a son-like-figure many times, only to have him brought back. It was nerve-wrecking to say the least. I finally understood. I had realized my selfish behaviour at last, simply because I wouldn't wish my heartbreak on anyone else.

If Romeo and Juliet were selfish in their actions, then I wouldn't want to be a part of that play. I wouldn't want to be Romeo anymore.

"His eyes are open now, Sister!" One of the Nurses said, patting her on the arm. But she knew. She was looking directly at me, into me the way Solo would have. This woman, the only woman who it would have been fit to call 'Mom', looked so overcome with relief I felt she would break down crying any moment. She didn't. She just opened her mouth and spoke.

"Duo." Her lips said softly. "Thanks goodness you're all right."

"Sister…" I croaked in reply, gripping her hand as hard as my weak limbs would allow. "…How am I…I don't…"

She sat up straighter in her chair and wiped her cheeks with the back of her free hand, sniffling. "I found you. Well, Jonathan found you. I was just following him."

It's possible that my eyes were confused, so she went on.

"He came back to his room and I was there, scolding Herbert for being mean. Anyways, he comes in happy as a clam. I was a little suspicious so I asked him why he looked so chipper. He told me you said a funny joke about shaving and looking like Santa. I knew you didn't shave. You don't even get stubble yet! I asked him to bring me back to your room. Everything was quiet, not even the sound of you splashing in the bath. I knocked and when you didn't answer I burst in find you pretty much underwater. "As Sister Helen spoke, her voice became more frantic, more high pitched. I tried to let her know I was okay in any way possible, that I was alive in the bed, but it didn't seem to help. She continued.

"The water was the sickly shade and I never thought you'd…cut yourself." She let go of my hand and buried her face in both of hers, sobbing loudly. I was hit with wave after wave of guilt upon seeing her cry. Guilt was an emotion I thought I'd become incapable of feeling. And when it came back, it came back with such force I thought I was going to be sick at the thought of it.

When she regained composure, she looked back up at me "You had lost so much blood, thank God you had donors. I thought for sure this time you would have really left us."

"Sister…"

"Duo, you can't keep doing this to yourself! This is not good! You have to move forward. Dwelling on such matters does no good to anyone. Solo wouldn't want you to keep doing this."

"I know." I reach out with a weak arm and placed it on her head. "This time is different, Sister Helen."

"What?"

"Sister… I want to get help."

I was ready now. I understood. As much pain as there was in my past, I could not let it reflect on who I was. The real Duo was buried underneath all of the sorrow and depression. It was going to be one hard road to recovery, but Solo would want me to get better. He said so himself. I realized that I was allowed to mourn him, but I wasn't allowed to be consumed by it. I wanted to be proud of the love we shared, and be able to move on. It was my way of telling Solo, wherever in Heaven he was, that I loved him and I wouldn't forget him.

I was ready for the rocky journey ahead.

I'm no Romeo.

* * *

_AN: Awwwrite. Another chapter done. I'm pacing myself this time around, so hopefully I'll be able to actually finish a full story. Hur Hur. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this._

_Yes, I know. "OMG! HEERO IS STILL NOT IN IT YET! OH NOES!!!!111one" Chillax. He's coming._

_READ AND REVIEW as usual._

_ilu 3 Yaoifanbunny_


	3. Recovery

**Break my Fall**

_Chapter 3: Recovery_

* * *

**RATING: R**

**WARNINGS**: **shounen-ai / yaoi (in later chapters) death, angst, OOC, AU**

**PAIRINGS: 1x2, 2+6, past Duo x Solo, 3+4, 5+6 (last two are a maybe, depending on how i work this out)**

**AUTHOR NOTES: **_Hey guys. Chapter 3 up for you. This one is a bit shorter and less well done because of school/homework/excuses/etc. Also, i forgot to put up the other pairings in the other chapters. YES! Kinda a spoiler, but I have to keep up with what i said in past chapters, like Duo will have had more than one lover before he meets Heero. Now that I'm trying to map out what's happening next, this seems like quite the commitment. I'm just glad I'm getting it done. XSPARExTIMEX sweet._

* * *

The dictionary definition of the word "recovery" has many meanings. When I took the time out to look it up, I was surprised that more than one definition fit my circumstances. A definition said _"Restoration or return to health from sickness"_. It applied to me because I was trying to 'restore' myself from my past. I was sick in a way; brain sick. Depression is a mental illness, and I had a serious case of it. The second definition was _"the regaining of or possibility of regaining something lost or was taken away."_ When the doctors and Sister Helen told me I had started my road to recovery, they had used the word to mean "from illness". But when I had read the second definition, I was filled with the sort of hope that usually isn't possible from someone as deep in despair as I had been. Getting back something I had lost. I knew exactly what that was to me. It wouldn't be something material, like money or clothes. My gain would be that of a more pure, emotional kind. For the first time in months, I was excited.

I stayed in the hospital for a few weeks after my initial admittance, for observation, much to my dismay. It would mean that I would be spending my birthday in a sterile, white room. My last birthday with the people who cared for me most. When I heard this bit of news from Sister Helen, I was less than thrilled. But she reasoned with me, told me that she could bring some things from my room to keep me entertained. She said that all the kids wanted to come see me on my birthday, with cake and have the celebration here. I supposed it was for the best. I knew that in the back of my mind I wouldn't want to set foot in my bedroom or bathroom ever again. There were a few good memories there, but the majority were too painful to want to think about. So I agreed with Sister and didn't make a huge fuss.

To be honest, I had no plan about what I was going to do after I left the orphanage and church. My grades were good, but had been slipping since the incidents that led to my hospitalization. I didn't think them enough to get me into a good University. It was possible for me to slip into the local community college, but unlikely, given the circumstances. Father Maxwell would often ask me about it as he sat next to me. He knew I didn't enjoy the subject, but he said it was necessary. He wouldn't see me unsuccessful. He needed to know I was going to be alright by myself.

I didn't really know what I wanted to do. When I was young, I had always fancied myself a teacher. However, when I got older, when I wasn't with Solo, I was in Father Maxwell's garage, looking at his car. English was something I liked, but cars were something I loved. I was often scolded for fiddling with the contents under the hood of his old station wagon. I was fascinated by how many parts it took to make one car run. How a bunch of tiny wires could make the automobile stop and start. The small boy inside me loved having grease and oil smeared across his face and shirt. The man in me loved the thought of solving the problems of the inner workings.

I knew well the reason I had stopped messing around with Father Maxwell's car, and thinking about it made me yearn for it. I wanted to smell the exhaust and have my hands caked in grease again. I wanted to be a mechanic.

After a few days I informed the old priest of my decision. He simply smiled and patted my head, chuckling. He told me he was glad and that he looked forward to being able to use his car again.

During my time in the hospital, I was monitored more than any other patient. Or at least that is what it seemed like to me. I suspected Sister Helen was behind it, but I wasn't mad. In a way I was grateful that I wasn't given the opportunity to be alone to wallow in my despair. That isn't to say I wasn't miserable. I was never the type to raise a ruckus over small things. But laying there with only 2 channels on the hospital TV, it could have been enough to make my situation worse.

I had known the process of recovery would be a hard one. I wasn't blind to what I'd gotten myself into. It was sort of like an emotional rehab. I would lay awake at night with tears streaming out of the corners of my eyes, hating myself for not succeeding. However, when morning came I would berate myself for worrying instead of sleeping. When morning came, I could see Sister Helen's rosary from where it sat on my bedside table. When morning came, the people I knew and loved would visit me and wash away my grief. As with any case of rehabilitation, I had cravings of sorts. My brain would focus on possibilities that I didn't want to notice. I was thinking up new ways of getting the job done, much to my horror. I got terrible headaches, caused from battling the voice inside my head that would egg me on. Sometimes I would start bawling for no reason. I was under a certain amount of stress, seeing as I wouldn't have much time for support after my period at the hospital was up. I was going to have to move away so soon, and I wasn't completely healed yet.

About a week before my birthday, Father Maxwell and Sister Helen came to visit me. Something about their air seemed a bit different. They were almost awkward around me. When someone is stuck in one place for a long time, they tend to find ways to entertain themselves. Me, I studied the people as they walked to and from my room. I began to learn certain cues and stances the body took when faced with different situations. I could read the emotion in their faces. I was slightly nervous at the change in my loved ones, but I know now I shouldn't have been. Sister Helen patted my hand like she always would when she told me the news.

"Duo, dear." She started off, "We have someone we want you to meet."

"And we don't want you to react irrationally to her." Father Maxwell added.

"She's a very nice lady. She offered to help you out for a couple of hours every day, when she heard about your story." Sister looked at me with an almost pitiful smile, like she was scared. Father Maxwell was doing the same.

"Is she a shrink?" I asked my voice slightly colder than I had intended it to come out. I swear they both almost winced.

"Um…she's a psychiatrist, yes."

"Oh. How much is that going to cost you?" I allowed my voice to soften. There was that pesky guilt again. I looked down at my hands, picking at the thin sheet covering my legs. The last thing I wanted was to become a cavern in which money fell, but was never returned.

"That's just the thing! When she learned about your circumstances, she said we could consider it a part of the recovery treatment. It won't cost the Church any extra. Don't worry!" Father Maxwell was almost jubilant.

I looked at both of them, my parental figures, two of the people I prized the most. I didn't want a "shrink". I didn't want to be written off as some mental case, regardless of what I'd been through. I didn't want her prescribing me some sort of medication just so she could say she did something to help. But I agreed, because Father Maxwell and Sister Helen both wanted what was best for me. They wanted to see me well again. Solo wanted to see me well again. And I would do it, if only for the three of them.

I sighed, and shrugged my shoulders, propping up the pillow behind my back as I sat in an upright position. "Alright." I said. "I want to meet her."

My first impression of Dr. Po was that she was a rather soft lady. She looked to be about 25; in my opinion, far too young to be listening to the problems of a billion other people when she was sure to have some of her own. She wore bright red lipstick and had soft auburn hair in neat little braids. Her lab coat was pristine and white, pressed to perfection. But it wasn't harsh, like many of the other doctor's I'd seen wandering about the hospital. She smiled at me when she entered, shaking the hands of both my guardians before making her way to me.

"Hello Duo. I'm Doctor Sally Po; it's nice to meet you." She offered her slim ivory hand out for me to shake, which I took. "I've heard a lot about you."

I nodded. "Well, I haven't really heard a lot about you. This was just kinda sprung on me."

"Ah, well that is understandable. But it's okay. We're going to get to know each other pretty well for the next little while." She took out a clip board and took a seat in the bedside chair. Turning around in her place, she motioned for Father and Sister to leave; no doubt she'd told them all about her Doctor-Patient confidentiality. They left silently as I watched, twiddling my thumbs and studying the fibres in my blanket.

"Okay! Now that we're alone, we can begin!"

"Whoopee." Sarcasm. Not a good start.

Dr. Po raised an eyebrow at me, tapping the end of her pen on the tip of her clip board. "Is that the way you always speak to the people tryin' to help you out?" She asked.

"No."

"Well then why are you saying such things?"  
"Listen, Dr. Po, with all due respect, I never wanted to do this."

"But they said you agreed."  
"And I did. For them."

"Ahhhhh." She smiled and began to jot things down on her paper. "I think I get it."

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. I didn't know what exactly a person could gather from speaking to me for only a few seconds, like she had. But her pen could have set fire to the page with the speed and amount she scrolled across it. She continued to talk as she was writing.

"You feel guilty for causing them so much stress. Is that it?"

"You really jump right into it don't you."

She looked up at me over the top of her clipboard. I squirmed uncomfortably under her stare. I think that she could tell I was testing the waters of her patience. She was a doctor, she was doing her job. But the way she jumped directly into my head made me uneasy; she was able to understand my circumstances unlike any other third party had before. It was a thought I wasn't secure with yet.

I mumbled a small apology to her and she sighed, setting her paper and pen on her lap.

"Look," she started softly, scratching her upper brow with her pinkie finger, "I can't say I understand what you're going through. As a policy, I don't. Everyone's experiences are different and I don't generalize. I probably will never understand exactly the way you feel, and I'm okay with that. I'm just here to help you figure out how to solve some problems and give you the tools to mend whatever emotional breakdowns you've had. I want to see you get back out in society as a normal person, I'm sure a lot of people do. And for that reason, you need to cooperate. At least for a while." Leaning forward in her chair she put her elbows on the edge of my bed, staring up at me with big, girly eyes. "We can start out simple then. I'll tell you what I know and we can expand on that, okay?"

I nodded silently. I wasn't in any mood to argue. Not at that moment.

"Okay. So…I know that you've been a ward of the state since you were very little and grew up in and out of foster care. I know that at the orphanage, you had a best friend-"

"Lover!" my voice blurted out the correction before I had a chance to stop it. I wasn't sure whether or not Sister Helen had told Dr. Po about the relationship between Solo and I. Not a lot of people outside of the orphanage DID know. I myself wasn't positive that I wanted her to know. In the end, I guess it was best that she was informed about it, because it seemed to help her in helping me.

"What was that?"

"Solo…" I continued. "He was my…my lover."

"Oh…OH!" her face flushed a slight shade of pink upon her realization. "Well, that gives a clearer picture…for me at least. Okay, and so after your lover died, you fell into a depression and tried to, well, pass on with him. Did I make any mistakes?"

I shook my head, blushing as well. It sounded so impersonal coming from her lips. She skimmed through a large and important part of my life like she was scanning for better content in a magazine. It made me slightly irritated, but it wasn't incorrect. I believed my story should have been told with a little more passion than just summed up in an aloof manner. It meant so much more to me than that.

I wanted to yell and scream at her for it. I wanted to grab her braids and yank them out of the sides of her head. I was doing it again; I was unconsciously thinking up ways to release my pent up emotion. She didn't even say anything remotely offending, but to me, it was like she'd just dropped a bomb on my entire world.

"So Duo, do you have any plans on what you're going to be doing after you're released from the hospital?" The subject was changed so suddenly I barely had time to catch up. One minute we were discussing the very reason for my illness, the next she was making small talk. It was almost too much. I was still coming down from my wave of anger, and she expected me to chat her up like we were having high-tea.

"Uh…" was the only thing I could muster. Not the most intelligent response to such a simple question. But I really had to wonder what kind of doctor she was; what her methods were if she left me so confused. "I…uh…am I little lost." I finally said.

"Are you? How so?"

"Well, I, uh…thought we were talking about my situation up to this point."

She smiled faintly and tilted her head to the side. "Duo, you and I both know your past; we understand that it was really-for lack of a better term- messed up. I just met you maybe 5 minutes ago. Do you really believe we'd go into something that heavy when we barely know each other's names? I know you don't want to talk about it, and we have to; just not right away. We can work our way onto that subject." I sat up a little straighter at her words, no longer picking at the sheets, no longer making awkward glances around my room.

"Besides," she continued, her smile widening into a happy grin, "the future hasn't happened yet. The past doesn't require planning."

The rest of her session with me that day went well. She went over what was up next for me and was more like a guidance counsellor than a shrink. I told her I was nervous about finding a job because I had, at best, a 12th grade education. She told me that some Automotive Mechanics took apprentices, teaching them the way that particular field of work operated. I couldn't help but feel slightly cold towards her. While she had made some good points, I had always thought it was something I would figure out for myself. I supposed it was for the best; I would have landed flat on my face if I were to handle it personally. Dr. Po offered to research some places near the orphanage that I could apply to, in case I needed anything. I took the offer with as much gratitude I could muster in my state, relieved that at least some things were working out. She left our session with a smile on her face and a promise that she'd come and see me the next day.

Dr. Po kept her promise as if it were a duty she was bound to by law. She always arrived promptly and got right down to business. I found myself warming up to her slowly, like she was the older sister I never had. Even the times where I thought she'd finally turned in her lab coat for the straight jacket, she pulled something clever out of her ass to make me eat my words. I think what I liked most about her was not only her unexpected humour, but also the sense of acceptance she exuded. She never treated me like I was a nutcase or a melodramatic teenager just seeking attention. She didn't speak in slow sentences and wait for me to catch up like I was an idiot.

Just as she had said, we came to the topic of Solo and the death that came with him. We did ease into the topic, but it didn't make it any less hard for me. I think my story touched her heart in a way, because her eyes were misting over near the end. It was especially obvious when I told her of my encounter with him in the darkness, fingering the scars and scabs on my arms where the stitches had healed. My voice would turn into a mere croak, and my throat would constrict until I was gasping and hiccupping for air; I didn't stop. She needed to know. When I was finished, she simply grasped my hand in hers and squeezed it tight, wiping the tears from underneath her eyes with a handkerchief so as not to ruin her mascara. She said to me the same three words I'd been hearing for so long, but now found some comfort in.

"I'm so sorry."

I simply nodded. No thanks were in order and she knew that. After she'd had her moment, the psychiatrist re-appeared and began to lecture me on alternative ways of grieving. She understood that I wasn't able to handle that impact of the death or the fact I was yet again being abandoned by someone I cared for. It all boiled down to my need for companionship. She told me it was due to my past- before Solo- that I was yearning so badly for love. I was alright and I was going to be okay, just so long as I kept having sessions on how to coach myself through the difficult parts.

My 18th birthday appeared before me like a burlesque dancer out of a bachelor party cake. It was hard for me to grasp that soon I would be released into society a man. It all seemed so far away. I certainly didn't feel entirely prepared for that day, even with the emotional and physical help I'd be receiving. I started taking medication for my depression and was feeling a good percent better, but not nearly enough to be stranded in the cold, hard world alone. It felt like I was just a small boy, dreaming of the day when I was released. It was what I thought for the greater portion of my life. Now it was quite the opposite.

Father Maxwell came into my room in the early morning, waking me and throwing some clothes on my bed with a smile. "Get changed. You've got company coming soon." He didn't lie, for no sooner had I emerged from the bathroom than 10 or so kids exploded into my room, joyously jumping and laughing, nearly tackling me to the ground with hugs. Sister Helen shooed them away and helped me back into bed, kissing my forehead and wishing me a happy birthday.

I was 18. And it became all the more real as I blew out the candles on the small cake the nuns had made me. I felt like I was dreaming. As the smoke floated into the air, making strange patterns against the white tiles of the ceiling, I knew it was time to start completely fresh.

It was time to put this recovery thing to use.

* * *

_AN: Like I said, I bit shorter than usual, because I'm a cheap hobo who takes too long to write chapters. Also, I'm doing quite a few commission Fics for my friends. I guess you guys can also note that I do that too. Write commissions with whatever pairing, whatevs. If you are interested, you can be put on the waiting list (--);; so send me an emailz. or something._

_YES I KNOW, I KNOW._

_HEERO WILL MAKE AN APPEARANCE IN THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS. I'M SORRY!_

_WHELP until then, please READ AND REVIEW. I dont write if i have no encouragement._


	4. ReThink

**Break My Fall**

_Chapter 4: Re-think_

* * *

**RATING: R**

**WARNINGS**: **shounen-ai / yaoi (in later chapters) death, angst, OOC, AU**

**PAIRINGS: 1x2, 2 6, past Duo x Solo, 3 4, 5 6 (last two are a maybe, depending on how i work this out)**

**AUTHOR NOTES:**_Hey guys! Sorry about the wait! I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. It's hard making a smooth transition by getting the characters from one place to another. I don't want it to be cheesy or corny or anything. :( Also, life's been a bit busy so I guess you can say I procrastinated. What with the holidays and mid-term exams. Yuck. Anyways, enjoy this chapter please_

* * *

I relish the experience of watching movies. When I was very small, one of the foster homes I stayed in for a short period of time had millions of them. The exaggeration I made was only slight. And even though I was only allowed to watch a fraction of them due to high ratings, I still marvelled at exactly what they were. I was a practical child. I knew right from the get-go that real life didn't necessarily have happy endings all the time; something which I had experienced first hand. However, the movies helped me entertain the hope that there was such a thing as "happily ever after". Maybe now that belief is still present, though I can't exactly fathom how. The heroes would dash gallantly into any tough situation with the goal of coming out the victor. I idolized them. Not that I wanted to be the superhero with the tight outfit and the secret powers, mind you. It was their traits that made them so idealistic. Without a second thought, they'd jump headfirst into a fiery pit of doom to save whatever innocents were held captive at the bottom. Confidence in themselves is what ultimately set them apart from their alter-egos, and everyone else for that matter. Inside they knew that no matter what the challenge, they would fight for as long as they could.

I was released from the hospital 4 days after my birthday. Dr. Po had given me her business card so I could look her up once I had retained my balance in the real world. I was off in a flurry of discharge papers and a wave goodbye to all those who had attended to me. Perhaps in a way I was sad to leave. Though I was more confident in myself thanks to all the treatment, I didn't know how well I would fair without people watching and monitoring my every move.

That is to say, I wasn't thrown directly into the merciless streets of the cold world. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, being the saints that they were, ordered me to stay with them until my affairs were in order. Going back to the church was a strange experience for me. So much had happened in such a small space in such a tiny time span that it was difficult for me to handle the first little while.

I stepped out of the cab and shuffled onto the sidewalk, huddled deep into my old coat, looking up at the turrets of the church and poorly shingled roof of the attached orphanage. The entire place seemed cold to me, despite the attachment I had to the whole building. I was chilled, but not because of the weather. Up the steps my caretakers led me, carrying my things in my small duffle bag, smiling and telling me how relieved they were that I was home. The church was dimly lit with low illumination and candles at the altar. I was told that one of them had been lit for me, praying to god for my recovery. I could only give a small half smile at that. I was back, yet it was still burning. The cathedral ceilings loomed familiarly over head and the pews were lined perfectly like they always were. It even smelled the same; like candle wax and musty old books. I was directed to the door at the side, leading to the inner hallways of the orphanage. I knew the layout, but they escorted me as if I'd never been before. As if they didn't trust me to stay. As if they expected me to run from the terror that was my past. Down the narrow corridors of the building I was pulled, listening to the murmuring of the children in the rooms we passed. They knew I was home, and though they expected it, they were no doubt gossiping.

My heart became heavy as I finally stood in front of the entrance to my own room. I stared at the door, as if it were the source of all of my problems, blaming it for everything that happened to me. It was against what Dr. Po had taught me, but I couldn't help it. It just stood there, in my way, blocking me. Maybe it was best. Maybe.

Sister Helen opened it slowly when I made no move for the knob, glaring menacingly at its white painted finishing. The hinges creaked eerily, like something out of a cheap horror film. I didn't want to go inside, but I had to. In my mind, if I didn't venture forward, I would be stuck forever in a cycle of self-pity. So I went. My room was dark, the corners blacker than night, stowing away creatures which I couldn't see. I took one step in. Then two. Then three, until I was standing between the twin beds I was so emotionally involved with. Sister Helen flicked on the lights and the room was aglow with color. Everything was placed perfectly, impersonally. It was as if I had never been there at all. As if Solo and I never made love under those covers. As if I hadn't stowed a razor under those towels. Would the nuns and children act like nothing had occurred here after I left, when they rent it out to another family-less child? I had no way of knowing, but in that moment, I felt all my problems yet again. I wanted to cry out, collapse on the floor, and tear around the room in a maddened state of emotional agony. But I didn't. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay there. It smelled heavily of cleaning products, like they tried to sterilize the past away. It wounded me that they would try and deny it. Any way I looked at it, I was losing. I didn't like to talk of the past, but was wounded when people tried to hide it. I turned with heavy eyes to Sister, tears welling up in my sight and I shook my head.

"I can't do it." I said. "I'm not ready for this yet. Is there another room I can stay in?" I didn't mean to be any sort of burden to them, but I wasn't fully healed yet. My wounds were only scabbed over, and if picked at they would open again. She sensed this and nodded, taking my arm and patting it comfortingly in that motherly way of hers. She reassured me that it was okay and took me to share a room with one of the other boys.

When dinner time came, the kitchen was bright with light and smelled of chicken stock; a warm inviting scent that had forced growls out of the stomachs of even the tiniest children. Everyone had a smile on their face as they bustled into the large room, grabbing the bowls and bread plates waiting for them on the counter by the door. I was the last one in, watching and doing the same, as I had for years at a time in my youth. I could stand to stay with them a while longer. This was my home after all. When no one would want me, they had always accepted me with open arms.

The children had a table separate from the adults; a long lower table alongside the very far wall of the kitchen near the windows. Plates and glasses clanked and there was the usual chatter of high pitched voices as they spoke amongst themselves. I, however, had been invited to sit at the "grown-up" table. All of the nuns and Father Maxwell sat there; an enviable place to eat. The child in me relished the fact that I was finally allowed into their secret world. This was where people of importance sat and it only reinforced the insistent pressure of my age. As I sipped my homemade soup and munched on the somewhat stale bread rolls, could feel a lump in my throat begin to grow. Insistent my age was. This was one of the last times I'd be eating with my family, I thought, listening to the kids laughing with full mouths and squirting milk and water out their noses. It'd be one of the last times I'd hear Sister Helen snap her fingers impatiently at them, telling them to stop playing with their food. It had been me once, sitting on the low chairs and stools, sticking carrot sticks up my nose and making the younger kids giggle until they fell out of their seats. I suppose that was the way my life had always been. When it wasn't ripe with event, it went by so fast I could barely remember the little details that made up who I was.

The tinkling of glass was what shook me out of my reverie. Father Maxwell was standing, holding a fork to his glass to get everyone's attention. When all the children had quieted down and were attentive to the older man, he spread his arms wide. It was a stance he took when speaking to a large number of people. He used it often during mass, especially when he was talking directly from his heart.

"Everyone," He began, booming with delight, a small smile on his old, pale lips. "I'm sure you've all noticed that a certain someone has returned to the church today. Duo, my dear boy, welcome back. The entire building shines with your presence." Some of the girls tittered from the kids table, whispering behind hands. "I'm going to start off by saying that the entire orphanage is incredibly relieved at your full physical recovery. We're elated to have you back." I stared up at the old man as his grin became wider. "You're 18 now, ready to leave us so soon. Duo, you know that you're a special member of this church and a beloved child of the orphanage and it will be hard to see you leave us. Out of care and love we want you to know that if you should ever need anything from us at all, you should feel free to ask. The church is always open, as are our hearts." Sister Helen tapped him on the wrist, handing him a small white envelope. He took it in both of his hands, looking down at his plate, then to the envelope then straight at me. "You know…" he said with a small laugh "These last couple of years have been a rollercoaster for you. And I know how much you hated it. Everyone here has felt the effect of your pain in their own way, and we needed to know that there was some way we could help you. I understand that this life you will have beyond the orphanage is one want to live for yourself. It's just that everyone, the nuns and I included, needed some way to show how much we care. So Sister Helen started a fundraiser of sorts for you, asking people to donate to raise a little money for you. The community responded with great enthusiasm, and we were all a little shocked." His smile had grown so wide it had become contagious. All the kids at the table were beaming at Father, eyeing the envelope with anticipation.

"The little ones are excited because I haven't told them how much their hard work has raised for you. Well then…" Father Maxwell ripped open the top of the white paper folds, pulling out the small blue cheque and studying it. "Hold on, I need my glasses." He chuckled, setting it facedown on the table as he patted his pockets in search of the eyewear. The children groaned impatiently and responded with "aw c'mon father!"

When finally the glasses were seated upon the tip of his nose, he looked down at the amount again, eyes wide.

"Are you sure this is right, Helen?" He said in an urgent and hushed voice. She nodded vigorously, a smile stretched from ear to ear. "If you say so. After donations and fundraising for weeks, the children, church and community would like to give you, Duo, this cheque for five-thousand dollars."

If I had been drinking anything at that moment, it would have been spit back across the room.

"F-five thousand dollars!?" I choked on the words with amazement. "B-but Father…you should be using that money for the…for the church and the orphanage instead! You don't need to do this-"

"Oh Duo, that's so like you." Sister Helen said, waving her hand nonchalantly. "Please, don't worry about us, dear. Some people insisted on donating to the church as well. You've been granted this gift under God's will, as have we. The cheque is yours to put in the bank and help you get on your feet."

The kids behind us were cheering and exchanging high-fives at their success. The room was filled with an elated sense of accomplishment and love. I was ready to burst into tears. It was so farfetched in my mind that the community could give so much. And to me. Sister Helen looked as if she wanted to join the children as they skipped around the room, singing and hollering. Father Maxwell stood overlooking it all with his eyes glittering in unshed tears. He handed me the cheque with pride, which I took, unable to read it for I was next to bawling. Kindness was a word that wouldn't do justice to these people.

I had thought myself unfortunate my whole life. The reality of the situation was that I wasn't. Despite the history, despite my past and despite the events of my world at the orphanage, it was the only place on earth I could have felt truly at home. The cheque in my hand was proof enough. How could I call myself unfortunate when I had a roof over my head and was surrounded by people who loved me?

"Thank you." I blubbered, between sobs. "Thank you so much."

Growing up in the system gave you a huge amount of appreciation for the everyday dollar. Money was something that had been scarce at almost every foster home, and only a little better at the church. Being given five thousand dollars all at once was enough to knock me off my feet. Impulses told me to go out and spend it, but my practical side demanded I put it to good use. I ordered my whims to focus on moving out of the orphanage. I was, of course, putting some in the bank to save up. But I also wished to take up Dr. Po on her offer of special rates outside of the hospital. There was no doubt I needed to continue therapy. On top of it all, I needed to acquire a job so the money flow could continue. Father Maxwell continued to help me on that matter, looking up job applications and places that take apprentices.

It was a Monday night, almost 3 weeks after I was given the money, when decided to give Dr. Po a ring. Fingering the small white card, I fumbled with the telephone, placing it between my shoulder and ear as I attempted to dial the number. I was slightly nervous, for some unknown reason. Did I think she'd forgotten about me? Maybe, but it wasn't a huge fear. She'd often tell me I was one of her most interesting patients. She had a relatively small practise, but I still thought it was another load of bull she would feed to everyone she treated. It only ringed twice before someone on the other end picked up.

"Good Afternoon, Noin and Po, how may I help you?" came a sickeningly chipper voice from the other end. I considered hanging up because of the sunny receptionist but decided against it. I wasn't exactly sure how to schedule an appointment, and I certainly didn't want to do it with this…lady.

"Uh, yeah, um…is Dr. Po in?"

"Dr. Po is indeed in, but she is with a patient right now. Would you like me to put you on hold, or take a message?"

"Uh, well, I just wanted to make an appointment for-"

"Sir, I can schedule you for an appointment. It's what they pay me for!" The woman giggled- actually giggled- on the other end of the line. It took all my strength not to throw the entire phone to the floor.

"N-no, Dr. Po said I should call her to discuss rates when I was back in the hospital and I-"

"Let me put you on hold." With that, the line abruptly went silent before a faint, dulcet song began playing through the receiver. I didn't want to be put on hold! Begrudgingly, I waited. If I ever did manage to make an appointment, I was going to give this receptionist a piece of my mind. There was nothing more irritating than a woman who couldn't keep her mouth shut. The music wafted into my ear and I was annoyed. Just as I was about to hang up, a more calm, feminine voice clicked onto the line.

"Hello, Dr. Po speaking."

I breathed out a huge sigh of relief at the familiarity of this voice and replied as evenly as I could.

"Dr. Po? It's Duo Maxwell. Do you remember m-"

"Duo! How are you kiddo?" She exploded in expression and excitement upon hearing my name.

"I-I'm fine. Uhm, you told me I could call you when I wanted to make an appointment with you."

"Of course, of course hon. But y'know, Relena is qualified to do that sort of thing."

"Oh…your receptionist. Well, I wanted to talk to you personally. Are you with a client? I'm sorry."

"Oh no we were just finishing up. It's perfectly alright."

"Okay."  
"So when did you want to come in to see me?"

I scratched my head. I hadn't thought that far into this conversation. Maybe I had, but I'd forgotten it among my exasperation at the receptionist.

"Well, what days do you have the most free space. I don't want to make you overly busy on one particular day or anything."

"Hmm…" I could hear her flipping through papers on the other end of the line; no doubt looking through her appointment book. "Actually, Hon, I can fit you in tomorrow. Tuesdays I only have 3 or 4 patients anyway."

"Okay, great." I smiled. I couldn't help myself. Dr. Po was one of the only people who could understand and help me sort out the confusing and scattered thoughts I had on a daily basis. Getting to see her again after the absence from the hospital filled me with a sense satisfaction. "How much will this cost? For this first appointment?"

"For you Duo, the first appointment is free. After that, if you choose to use my services on a weekly basis, it would cost you about $450 a month. But because you're my favourite patient, let's say $200 a month."

I laughed. "You're not supposed to pick favourites."

"Human nature." She huffed. "What time is good for you? I have an opening at noon and an opening at 3:30."

"Noon sounds good for me."  
"Fantastic. You're booked. See you tomorrow at noon, then!"

"Yep."  
"Bye-bye, Duo. Stay out of trouble, okay?"

"Sure thing Dr. Po." With a click, she hung up. I placed the phone back on its perch and laid back on my makeshift bed, arms behind my head. I was extremely happy to be going to see her. I had had my doubts, but it turned out I was attached to her as well. I almost saw her as my older sister. She was a figure head; down-to-earth, knowledgeable and practical but gave advice from the heart as well as the brain. I had no doubt that her small practise would bloom. It was her kindness and generosity that led us to meet. If she put even half the effort into other patients as she did me, she'd be like Dr. Phil in a few short years.

The next day, I was up and raring to go at 7:30. Any other day, it would have been an ungodly hour for me, but not that day. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen knew what was happening, but all the while attempted to have me calm down. I guess it was abnormal for me to be ecstatic to see my psychiatrist, but in all honesty, I couldn't have cared less. I couldn't even choke down breakfast because my stomach had become all antsy.

The drive to the office wasn't very long but it seemed to drag on for hours. Sister Helen watched me out of the corner of her eye, smirking amusedly as I fidgeted with every button in the vehicle.

"Duo, no matter how many times you press that button, the window will open and close the same way."

I turned to her, giving a weak smile in reply and putting my hands in my lap. "Sorry." I muttered.

"I understand you're looking forward to seeing Dr. Po. You two have a lot to catch up on."

"I guess you could say that, sister." I shrugged. "I want to get her input on some things. I'm thinking about taking that apprenticeship at Merquise Central Auto Body shop, but I want her opinion first."

"Merquise Auto…doesn't Father Maxwell already send his car there?"

"That's how I got the application."  
"Ahh, I see."

With a sharp right turn, we pulled into the parking lot of a decent brick building. There was a small sign out front that said "Noin and Po: Psychiatric Services" in bold black letters. Flowers adorned the garden out front, groomed to perfection. The building had frosted glass windows with white sills. The word quaint came to mind, though it shouldn't have due to the building's actual purpose.

"I'll drive around for a while and pick you up in an hour." Sister Helen said, patting me on the shoulder before I got out of the car.

"Okay!" I waved as she left, speeding out of the parking lot and down the adjacent street.

The interior of the building was almost completely silent. There were two doors; one on my left that said 'Enter' and one on the left that said 'Exit'. It was slightly odd, but I pushed my way through the left door anyways. The next room was awash with light. The walls were painted a calming blue, the frosted glass casting peculiarly shaped shadows on the floor. To my right, there was a half wall and counter, behind which was a desk and about five filing cabinets. A busty blonde girl sat at the desk, staring at the computer screen with a blank look on her face. Relena, the receptionist, is what I assumed.

I cleared my throat and she looked up at me, studying me from head to toe before she smiled a jaw-cracking smile.

"Welcome sir! Do you have an appointment?" The giddy voice was 10 times more annoying in person. Cringing, I nodded and walked over to her.

"With Dr. Po at noon."

She clicked at the computer once or twice and focused her attention back on me. "Okie dokie! You can have a seat over there; she'll be right with you!"

"Thank you."

Turning I surveyed the rest of the room, jumping when I noticed I wasn't the only 'patient' there.

A man, not much older than I sat across the room next to another set of doors. He was watching me quite unabashedly from over the top of a TIME magazine. I looked away quickly, staring at the floor and sat down on the nearest chair to me, taking off my jacket and holding it in my hands. The man was still gawking me. I was nervous; this was the last place I wanted to get "picked-up". From the corner of my eye I could see him take his gaze off me to flip to a new article in his magazine. He had short brown hair, cut in a style that some would call 'methodically messy'. It fell into his eyes, a shocking blue in color; so much so it amazed me. He had chiselled, but not harsh, facial features and an olive tinted skin that looked smooth in texture. He was good looking, I had to admit. Against my will, I felt the heat rushing to my face.

His eyes flicked back to me over the top of the magazine and our eyes met. It was only for a moment but it felt like forever, caught in his gaze, and my breath escaped me. The sensation was almost like drowning, but this time I didn't mind. I was saved only by the sound of a door opening.

"Duo, hon! You did show up! Come on in!"

* * *

_AN: OKAYYYY! How did you like it, guys? I know, I know. I promised that Heero would make an appearance. I wanted their first introduction to be one of the eyes only. Almost to emphasize a sort of "love-at-first-glance" situation. It seems so much more dramatic to me. It will play an important role in Heero's character later. We'll see how this pans out._

_Whelp, y'all know the drill. Please read and review. Even if its concrit! You know i love hearing from you! - Yaoifanbunny_


	5. Regard

Break My Fall

_Chapter 5: Regard_

* * *

**RATING: R**

**WARNINGS**: **shounen-ai / yaoi (in later chapters) death, angst, OOC, AU**

**PAIRINGS: 1x2, 2 6, past Duo x Solo**

**AUTHOR NOTES: **_Okay guys, this chapter is a little bit short. I had to cut it off, so if it ends abruptly I'm super sorry. You're going to hate me for excuses, but I'm preoccupied with life right now. I'm going on a trip in 9 days to and Anime Convention (So If you're going to Anime North o8, I'll see you there!) and planning and everything needs to be finalized. You'll be happy to know that I've already started chapter 6, so I'm a bit ahead of the game this time. Hopefully I'll get it up before the end of June. ;)_

_A man, not much older than I sat across the room next to another set of doors_

_A man, not much older than I sat across the room next to another set of doors. He was watching me quite unabashedly from over the top of a TIME magazine. I looked away quickly, staring at the floor and sat down on the nearest chair to me, taking off my jacket and holding it in my hands. The man was still gawking me. I was nervous; this was the last place I wanted to get "picked-up". From the corner of my eye I could see him take his gaze off me to flip to a new article in his magazine. He had short brown hair, cut in a style that some would call 'methodically messy'. It fell into his eyes, a shocking blue in color; so much so it amazed me. He had chiseled, but not harsh, facial features and an olive tinted skin that looked smooth in texture. He was good looking, I had to admit. Against my will, I felt the heat rushing to my face._

_His eyes flicked back to me over the top of the magazine and our eyes met. It was only for a moment but it felt like forever, caught in his gaze, and my breath escaped me. The sensation was almost like drowning, but this time I didn't mind. I was saved only by the sound of a door opening._

"_Duo, hon! You did show up! Come on in!"_

I was thrown out of my momentary reverie like I was being pushed out of an airplane. Shoved hard and fast into a freefall that left me blinking before I realized my name had been called. Shaking my head, I cast my eyes in the direction of the door opposite me. Dr. Po stood standing there, clipboard in hand, head tilted in an expression of confusion. I looked bewildered from her to the man, who had put down his magazine and was staring openly at the both of us, looking mildly amused at the entire situation. I managed to choke out a few words, bamboozled at my lack of communication skills at that moment in time.

"S-sorry Dr. Po. I was…uh… daydreaming." I rose from my seat and scrambled across the waiting room, keeping my eyes on the floor. My fingers nervously wringed at my jacket, as if they were choking a human neck. I tired my hardest not to look back over my shoulder as I was led out of the room, but curiosity got the better of me. Chancing a small peek behind me, I saw him smirk and give a tiny wave as Dr. Po put her arm around my shoulders and led me through the adjoined hallway. My face was flushed a full, bright, cherry red by the time we reached her assigned room. It was a large wooden door with "Dr. Sally Po" engraved on a small gold plate at eye level. Upon opening it, she revealed a large room, painted in a dark brown, with a chair, couch and a bookcase along the back wall. There was a big window with cream-colored blinds, where light from the outside streamed in, casting small shadows on every inch of the room.

"Have a seat, Duo." She said, casually flopping down on the chair and putting her feet up on the coffee table between herself and the couch to which she was motioning. "How yah been?"

"Good I suppose." I sat where her finger was pointing, putting my now wrinkled coat on the seat next to me. "Not out of the orphanage yet, but soon."

"That's excellent. You know I'm ecstatic to see you getting your grasp of things."  
"With help, of course." I said simply. In truth, it seemed all of my efforts to move up and out were aided by someone. It was like a tiny pinprick of disappointment in myself, I think. It was finally time to do things for myself, but I still needed people to do things for me. Then again, I hadn't the contacts or the involvement in the community that Father Maxwell had. I wouldn't have known where to start, or where to go without him.

"Oh Duo," Dr. Po said with a flail of her hand, "They're helping you because they care about you. It's your decision to accept or reject that help. If you really didn't want it, you would have brushed it off with that almost meek muttering of yours." I smiled. She knew me too well for someone who would only be seeing me once a week. It was her job. "So, is there anything in particular you'd like to talk about today? Do you need to discuss what's happening next in your life?"

"Actually, yeah. That'd be nice. I was offered an apprenticeship at Merquise Central Auto Body shop. Father Maxwell is one of their best customers and was friends with the current owner's father a while back. I've got a small interview thing with them on Friday."

We spent the majority of my hour discussing my future. It felt like I was back in the hospital, back when the planning had just begun. Dr. Po had this way of looking at things from an almost omniscient point of view. She examined each angle of the situation and looked for holes that I might have missed. I told her about the money I had been given and she grew a huge smile on her face. She told me she could have expected that of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen; that they cared for me enough to do that much for my happiness. I felt so relieved and much more confident about my future. Dr. Po was my guidance councilor, my psychiatrist and now a big sister figure. She seemed to look out for me a great deal, and I both loved and respected her in my own way.

Near the end of my session, she set her clipboard down on the table and sat up a bit straighter in her chair. "Well Duo, I'd have to say this session was very successful. We can get to the more deep and emotional stuff next Tuesday." She paused, "That is to say, you WILL be coming to see me again next Tuesday, right?"

"Of course. How could I not with that exceptional deal you gave me over the phone?"

"Are you sure it's not because of my pretty face or amazing wit?" She grinned at me playfully, twirling a pen between her fingers and tapped her foot to an unheard beat somewhere in her head.

"I'm fairly certain, Dr. Po. Though those reasons may have been small factors."

She snorted. "Small? Hardly."

"Do you think I can book that appointment right now? I don't think I'd like to call again if I could avoid it."

"Consider yourself booked, dear. As for Relena our receptionist, I blame the hiring of her on Dr. Noin, my partner. Relena is not the brightest bulb in the pack as you may have already figured out." I finally shared with her a silly grin of agreement. Her résumé must have been impressive to be hired, and I couldn't fathom her having any experience past a fast food restaurant. But perhaps those thoughts were mean. I didn't care. And because Dr. Po agreed with me, my little assumptions became true.

The session ended without a hitch. Dr. Po escorted me back out into the cool, brighter atmosphere of the waiting room. Each and every chair was now empty, making the room look almost enormous. I noticed immediately that the man wasn't there. I don't know if I felt relieved or disappointed. Either way I was a tad bit curious. He couldn't have been Po's patient, since I was with her for the full hour. I had to know. Dr. Po had retreated behind Relena's desk, shuffling through files in the tall cases, filling out forms. Relena herself was staring at the screen again, as if entranced or hypnotized. She acknowledged neither Dr. Po nor I and clicked a key on the board in front of her about once or twice a minute. It was either then or I'd have to wait until next week. I wasn't a very patient person by nature, so I went for it.

"Um, Dr. Po…"

"Yes hon?" She didn't look up from the forms she was examining but cocked her head slightly in my direction anyways.

"Uhm…do you know who that guy was that was in here before? The one in the waiting room the same time as me?" I shuffled my feet, not expecting a straight answer for fear of breaking confidentiality.

"Mmm," She peeked at me out of the corner of her eyes, jotting things down on the last scrap of paper before tucking it into the folder neatly, "I don't think I know him. Brown hair, blue eyes? No. He's not one of mine. I suppose he's here to see Noin. But we hardly gab about our patients to one another. Not part of the deal. Not part of the oath." She slipped the folder back into its place in the cabinet, turning back to face me and crossing her arms over her chest. "If you want to know who he is, why don't you just ask him yourself?"

"W-what? I can't do that! Besides, I don't even know if he'll be here the same time next week!"

"A lame excuse, Duo, really. Most of our patients enjoy a fixed scheduled time. Which reminds me…" She approached Relena and tapped the dazed girl on the shoulder, stirring her from what seemed to be an open-eyed sleep. "Please dear, try and stay awake for us. Book Mr. Maxwell for the same time next week and don't daze out like that again. It's not helpful when a receptionist can barely keep her eyes focused."

"Sorry Doctor." Relena muttered, straightening in her chair.

"Alright then Duo, we'll see you next week. Good luck at your interview on Friday!" Dr. Po smiled in that way of hers, taking me by the arm and escorting me to the doors.

"Thanks for everything!" I said, waving as I left the building. Sister Helen was waiting in a parked car across the lot, looking at what seemed to be a crossword puzzle. I practically floated towards her. I was in such high spirits I could have given away all the money I'd received from the orphanage. I felt like my old self again, for the first time in a very long time. As I got in the car, Sister noticed I was beaming.

"Someone had a nice chat with Miss Po, then?"

But all I could do was nod and grin as she hugged me.

I was walking on air for the rest of the week. Everyone at the orphanage noticed my change in behavior as soon as I got back. I wondered for a long time, in my bliss, how I could be so happy after just one visit. I'd seen Doctor Po nearly every day while I was in the hospital, so it was odd for me to be elated after our first session outside of the official facility. Perhaps it was finally realizing I was moving forward. That paired with the help she offered could make even the most stoic person ecstatic.

Friday rolled up quickly, catching me in the remnants of my good mood. For this, I was nervous too, but in a different way. I had never met the people at the shop before, but Father Maxwell insisted they were nice. He'd known the previous owner since they'd been young, and now his son was running the entire place. He even lived in one of the apartments above. I felt on edge, like my life depended on achieving the apprenticeship; in a way it actually did. Without this, there would be no more income and no way for me to keep a steady pace away from the orphanage.

Merquise Central Auto Body Shop was located about ten blocks away from the church. It was a tall red brick building that towered over the rest of the street. The front had two large garage doors that were open, revealing the main part of the shop. There was an old Ford Focus sitting still in the center, a pair of legs sticking out from under the front bumper. Father Maxwell accompanied me inside, opening a small screen door which led to the interior. There was a desk in the corner covered in papers and a small, old computer screen. The entire place smelled of grease and oil; not that I minded so much. Along the walls were shelves with hundred of little drawers, each labeled with tiny little stickers indicating parts and screws to use. Tattered posters of fancy sports cars were stuck to the ceiling, slowly peeling off the adhesive used to fix them there. Other than the two of us, the room was empty. I took a seat in one of the chairs against the wall next to a door labeled 'bathroom' while Father Maxwell stood patiently by the desk.

"Which one am I supposed to be meeting today Father?" I asked, leaning back in the chair, looking up and twisting my head to see the photo of a red Corvette stuck above me.

"Zechs Merquise, the current owner. I haven't been here for some time, but he said today would be the best day to meet you."

"Do you think he was that guy out there under the bashed up piece of junk?"

"No, that would be me."

We both turned to see who'd snuck up on us so quickly. In the doorway stood a man about my height. He was Asian, I'd have guessed Chinese. His hair was slicked back into a low ponytail and his dark eyes examined us questioningly. He was wearing grease covered jeans and a smudged white tank top, holding a wrench between his two small hands. "Can I help you gentlemen?" He asked, focusing completely on me, wiping his soot blackened hands on his pants.

"Well, yes," Father Maxwell came to stand beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder, "We have an appointment to see Zechs Merquise. He said he would be meeting with us at this time."

"Uhuh. Zechs went up to his apartment for a moment. You can wait for him here." The man spoke with a slight accent, a trait which would have almost been endearing if he hadn't seemed so condescending to us. I felt myself doubting Father Maxwell's choice of shop. Did I really want to work with such a character? I turned to him expectantly as the Asian man revisited his car.

"Usually the staff here is a little more polite. I've never been here on a Friday." Father chuckled. "And Zechs is especially polite. He used to come to the parish when he was young and donate his allowance to the hand-out baskets. Do you remember him at all? Blonde? Tall?"

I shook my head.

"Well, maybe it was before you came to us. He's 25 now. He took on all his father's responsibilities when he died, and so young! Now he's got his own business and works so diligently!"

"Oh Father Maxwell, you flatter me too much!" Just like that we were in the presence of another. He entered the small space like a whirlwind; displaying grandeur and splendor from only taking a few steps towards us. He was tall, like Father had described him, looming over me like I would stare up the trunk of a tree. He had long platinum blonde tresses (also how Father Maxwell described him, but with much less brilliance) that flowed down over his shoulders and framed his icy blue eyes. He was rather built, long sinewy muscles almost glided as he moved to give Father a hug. It would have been an understatement to say that this man, Zechs, was attractive. To me, he was the guy you'd see in the risqué magazines before you stuffed them back on the rack, embarrassed. He was untouchable and almost overbearingly intimidating. His posture made him seem confident and outgoing, everything I was striving for now as I was recovering. In embracing Father Maxwell, he came away and shook his hand with a firm strong grip. I noticed that he wasn't covered in the same black muck that his employee had been. Instead he was dressed in jeans and a form fitting band t-shirt, neither of which were marred by black smudges.

"How have you been?" He asked with a silky, soft voice.

"I've been very good lately Zechs. And how about yourself?"

"Living, getting through the days well, thanks." He turned to me. "This must be Duo. I heard about you over the phone," a large, slender hand was held out to me, which I took with tentativeness. His hand was soft, where mine was rough and covered with calluses. Zechs didn't seem like the type of person who'd be working in a dirty Auto Body shop, let alone _own_ one. He seemed more suited to sit on a throne and be pampered on a moment's whim. He shook my hand with vigor, coming close enough to my body to make the heat surge up into my face. "It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice ran close to my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I had no where to look that wouldn't be awkward, forcing my eyes to meet with his. I felt scared. I felt nervous. But underneath it all, I felt a tiny twinge of excitement. My heart was racing and my face felt like it was set on fire.

"P-please to m-meet you too." My words scrambled and stuttered, making me wish I could crawl into a hole and die. The embarrassment must have been evident, because he chuckled and released my hand.

"Come. We have much to discuss!"

Zechs, with a hand on my back, led Father Maxwell and I out into the more open space of the main shop. The sound of a wrench being twisted emerged from beneath the occupied car.

"This man is Wufei Chang. He's also an apprentice here, albeit more advanced than you'll be Duo since you're just starting out. He's a bit of a firecracker so watch out." Zech's kicked the other man's protruding boot, to which the Asian man replied with obscenities. The blonde man continued.

"You'll come into the shop whenever we need you, which will likely be 3 to four times a week. We have other mechanics here, so we won't need you every day. On Fridays, the other guys like to take a day off, so it'll me you Wufei and I." He spoke to us at that moment the way a boss would speak strictly to his employee. Even though it was supposed to be an interview, Zechs' explanation made it sound like I had already passed it. My hope sprung anew, despite my intimidation on first glance.

"There are two apartments upstairs. One is mine, the other- which we've just had renovated- is open for rent. If you wanna take it up, it's not going to cost you very much since you'll be working here. Maybe 100 a month, since as an apprentice you won't be making very much. You'll find I'm a fair guy."

"That sounds like a great and generous offer, right Duo?" Father Maxwell was excited for me, I could see it in the way his eyes sparkled. I would miss seeing him every day, but the offer was just far too tempting to pass up. I would have a job, and a place to live for cheaper than my visits to Dr. Po. I nodded with a small smile, unable to express my gratitude with words.

According to the blonde man, I had gotten the apprenticeship as soon as he walked in the door and saw me.

"You radiate trustworthiness and loyalty." He said "Just what employers look for."

"When can he start?" Asked my guardian.

"Whenever he feels ready, Father. He can move in on Sunday, since the shop isn't open then and start work on Monday."

Moving towards my goals had never felt sweeter. Ever since I was young, I'd had many that I'd never reached. Finding a loving foster family. Graduate out of a public school system. Stay with Solo forever… It broke my heart many times over. It made me feel like I wasn't in control of my life or my own destiny. I was a puppet on the strings of some higher power. Sister Helen always said that God had a plan for me, and sometimes that plan never matched my own. I was inclined to believe her for so long, but stopped abruptly when Solo passed away. It was only up until recently, but the drastic change seemed to make all the difference. Suddenly, and with the help of others, I was getting almost exactly what I wanted. I like to think it was because God handed the reins to me. He'd given me the ultimate obstacle and told me to figure it out. If I was able to do that, he'd let me make my own decisions. I almost failed him. A frightening thought.

Zechs showed us the rest of the way around the shop, giving brief explanations of tools and protocol until late in the afternoon. He showed us the spare apartment upstairs, and giving a personal tour of his own. Everything was spotless, as I could have expected from his pristine appearance. Something about him and the atmosphere he was surrounded by screamed contrast. Down in the shop, where dirt covered everything but the bottom of the toilet bowl, Zechs seemed like a beacon of tidiness that fitted better in the cleanliness than slumming in filth. It was almost unnerving to me, that I had noticed it before but not to that scale. He didn't belong, and I adamantly wondered why. He was a nice enough guy, but there was one tiny number that didn't add up. I shoved it to the back of my brain, telling myself this man was to be my boss, and therefore I couldn't judge him too soon. I'd barely known him a day.

I went to bed that night feeling satisfaction in myself. Knowing I had a plan helped me sleep and I dreamed of the future; where I'm back on the beaten path and not straying foolishly off course.

_AN: Alright hopefully that wasn't too abrupt. I apologize again. _

_Please read and review, okie dokie?_

* * *


	6. Redden

Break my Fall

_Chapter 6: Redden_

* * *

**RATING: R**

**WARNINGS**: **shounen-ai / yaoi (in later chapters) death, angst, OOC, AU**

**PAIRINGS: 1x2, 2 6, past Duo x Solo**

**AUTHOR NOTES: **_Alright! Another chapter. Sorry it's so devastatingly late! And a tad short. I just got to the point where I decided it was the most appropriate end to this chapter. It sounded pretty good when I was reading it aloud. Things are moving forward. I think you'll like where this is heading! This difference between this story, and all the ones I haven't finished is that I already know how this one is going to end! HEehehehehehe._ _and I'm done! ENJOY_

* * *

I used to watch people a lot. When I was a child and too lonely to talk to anyone, I would just look around and find something or someone to preoccupy my time with. If it was standing in line at the bank with my foster care parents or during mass at the Church, I was observing. Sometimes people would stand out because of how they looked or carried themselves. I entertained the thought that I'd seen everyone in the city at least once before. However, no one had made as much of an impact on me as the man in the waiting room had. Just the single meeting of the eyes had sent my whole world careening into a black hole where it was just me and him. I was engulfed in his memory, even though at the time I had no idea he had had such an effect on me. When I closed my eyes in bed, I was startled to see two true, blue orbs staring straight back at me. Every night since the initial contact it haunted me, but it was a good haunt. I began to expect them.

Of its own accord, my stomach became anxious for when Tuesday would roll around again. Dr. Po wouldn't tell me who he was because the man wasn't her patient. And the other doctor, Noin, wouldn't release that information to a strange 18-year-old like I was. That meant that any hope of knowing the man with the blue eyes rested in me.

When Solo was around, he was the one who had done the talking. I don't know if I can say I was truly shy and timid; I think perhaps it was more I just didn't know the words to use. I wasn't well-spoken like he had been. When I got close with people, it became easier to speak with them. In fact, some kids at the orphanage had trouble getting me to shut up. But that had been before Solo. That had been before I realized how alone I was going to be without him. In the end, it was the obstacle of the first, ice-breaking conversation that I struggled greatly with. I was just awkward.

On Sunday I moved into my new apartment above Merquise Auto Body Shop. It seemed really strange to me, finally leaving the safety of the church and venturing out into the world. I was nervous, but not as mortified as I would have been months previous. The apartment had been newly renovated; all new windows, cabinets and bathroom, plus it came with a fridge, a stove, an armoire and a bed frame. All the other furniture was up to me to purchase or provide. What was already there seemed generous enough. Father Maxwell and some of the older boys from the orphanage helped me get what few belongings I had up into my new home. Zechs and the Chinese boy Wufei also muscled in a nice sofa that had been stored in the church basement for several years. It smelled of must, but I was never one to be too picky with a charitable offering. Thankfully, the apartment was small, so even though I had next to nothing to decorate or occupy space with, it didn't look barren. The kitchen and living room were merged and the bathroom was attached to the bedroom. It didn't need to be too huge for just one person.

"Well," Father Maxwell said, patting my head when every last box had been stacked for me to unpack, "It's perfect for you. A new start. And once you've saved enough and found your place, you can move into a bigger apartment. Think of it as your goal." I hugged him tightly and thanked him a thousand times over for everything he had done for me. The man had been my encouragement and my safety net.

After everyone had left me alone to settle in, I wandered around my new home, trying to memorize it and become comfortable with it. I'd never been an easy adjuster; many of my foster homes could attest to that fact. There was something heart-warming about the thought of my first home, but also something cold and impersonal. I credited that to the lack of decoration; I hadn't yet made the space "mine".

There was a knock on my door and I hollered for the person to enter. Zechs appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, smiling widely from ear to ear, looking untouchable as ever.

"How is it going in here, Duo?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe as he watched me put folded clothes into the armoire.

"Uhm…pretty good I think. I just need to unpack the rest of those boxes. I'll get around to that later."

"Are you hungry? Want to go get a bite to eat?" Zechs asked as cool and calm as a lake at midnight. I blushed. "I mean, as a neighbour and employer speaking to the new tenant and employee?"

"A-actually Zechs, Father Maxwell brought me some sandwiches so I think I'm goo-"

"Nonsense!" He said loudly, keeping the grin plastered on his face. "I insist on treating you. And I'll be able to give you more of the low-down on what will happen on your first day tomorrow!"

His pursuing of my company had begun. I found my face getting hotter with each word. It felt unreal to me that someone like Zechs- who commanded the attention as soon as he entered the room- would want to treat me to a meal. I was hard pressed to decline his offer. In fact, I accepted stutteringly. I felt like a dark shadow in his midst, even while walking into the local burger joint and standing at the counter. The girl taking our orders couldn't keep her mouth from watered at the sight of him. He was an impressive prospect to behold; I could feel my heartbeat race when he turned to wink at me. Tall, blonde and beautiful were the only words I could think to describe him with. He made a small ball of uneasiness form in the bottom of my stomach as he flirted with me shamelessly while we ate. I don't think I fully realized he was doing it, but now that I look back at it, I know he definitely was. Even down to him letting me drink from his straw, it was all a blatant method of attraction. And it was working.

The next day I began my apprenticeship downstairs in the shop. Zechs gave me a few last-minute pointers and must-know info before he retreated back upstairs. I had expected him to sit in the office and type away calculations and stuff. I then berated myself, remembering the observation I had made of him looking out of place. Before he left, he handed me over to the expertise of Mr. Wufei Chang. Even though he was only an apprentice himself, it seemed he would be the one watching over me on my first day. I found that to be a little inappropriate, but regardless, I did what I was told. As Zechs disappeared out of the shop, I turned to the Chinese man expectantly. The only thing I got in return was a look of distaste.

"You know what?" he said, walking swiftly to a car different from the one on the day of my interview. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Maxwell. This isn't going to be an easy job. It never is an easy job. And with Prince Zechs ruling over us from up in his tower, you'll find you'll be in my company quite often. And frankly, I don't like you that much."

"W-what?" I asked in confusion. What had I done to him so far to deserve that kind of statement?

"It took me a whole lot of…convincing to get a job here. In fact, I shouldn't even be an apprentice anymore. I'm better than some of the other geezers who come and go as they damn well please. So you'll follow my instruction and we'll try and deal with each other in the smallest amounts possible. Got it?"

If I had been anyone other than Duo Maxwell, I would have shouted my unhappiness right back at him. If Wufei was just going to be a thorn in my side, I had a feeling I'd sincerely regret finding a job the easy way. But for Father Maxwell's sake, I'd endure; because I'd hate to see the look on his face if I'd failed him.

The rest of the day was spent watching Wufei work and listening to him bark orders and obscenities. He was mostly covering the basics of the inner workings of the car; at least that's what I could interpret through his rather…unique way of teaching. Zechs didn't show his face for the rest of the day, which I found I was disappointed about. After a day of Wufei calling me a moron, it would have been nice to hear the blonde's sugar-coated words. I went up to my apartment that night exhausted, not even bothering to make myself anything to eat for supper. I think I fell asleep on the couch, but I can't really remember. My first day of work. It was to be one of many. However, as soon as I closed my eyes, I saw _his_ again. I felt all of my worries and sore limbs dissipate into dreamland.

I walked into Dr. Po's office on Tuesday feeling tentative. I didn't know what I was to expect, walking in there, seeing him again. Seeing in real life the eyes that I unintentionally dreamed about. I swallowed hard and turned the corner, looking straight at my feet, walking over to the receptionist's desk. Relena was popping her gum rather loudly, like a statement about the lax rules for her in the office. At the sight of her I was annoyed, at least mildly so. She greeted me with merely an upward nod of her head, leaning her cheek in her hand. At least this week she wasn't hiding the fact that she really did next-to-nothing.

"I'm here for my appointment." I said as nonchalantly as I could manage with the anticipation clouding the back of my mind.

"Back again Mr. Maxwell?" She asked, looking bored and sounding just the same.

"Uh, yes?" where had the overly chipper and air-headed receptionist from the phone go? I think I actually preferred her over this version.

"Surprise surprise. You know the drill. Have a seat."

Finally, the moment I had been waiting an entire week for. I turned to face the rest of the waiting room. It felt like a slow-motion sequence to me. My heart rate went through the roof.

The room was empty.

I blinked once. I blinked twice. Had I come on the wrong day? Did he have a scattered schedule? I felt disappointment well up inside me to the point I almost cried. Have you ever wanted – no- expected something so much, only to be let down in the end? I must have thought up a billion excuses for his absence.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Came Relena's rather impatient voice from behind me. "Do you want me to pick out a seat for you, or something?"

"Oh…n-no. I'm fine" I felt more embarrassed than anything. In my excitement I'd made a fool of myself, even if I didn't display it on the outside. Cursing my hopefulness I retreated to the seat furthest from Relena's desk. Sure, I'd been a little early. Sure, I'd made sure my hair was perfect before leaving the apartment. And sure, maybe I'd brushed my teeth 5 or 6 times. That didn't mean I'd been obsessively hopeful, did it?

I picked up one of the many magazines sprawled messily on the table in the center of the room. There is always something about doctor's offices, no matter what kind of doctor they are, they always have little to no interesting reading material. I wasn't interested in TIME magazine, or the psychiatric pamphlets, so I opted for Health Monthly, flipping through it, grumbling. I figured that looking at pictures of children with the chicken pox was more my style than 'the Tobacco Legislation" or "Do you have OCD". It was when I got to page 14 that the door from the parking lot opened with such force that it startled me.

"I'm here." Was all he said as he walked into the room, only briefly acknowledging Relena as she nearly squealed with delight. It was the first time I'd witnessed her express emotion besides…well…blankness. But it was all just me noticing in passing, because my focus was now elsewhere.

Late. He was just late. Well, later than me, anyways. It wouldn't be far-fetched to say that I probably had the same facial expression as Relena as he made his appearance. He looked up at the rest of the room, stopping momentarily in his tracks when he spotted me. A myriad of emotions crossed his face, as I tried to look inconspicuous while watching him. Surprise and glee were mutely evident as he settled into a chair across from me. I fought the urge to laugh nervously. I'd never had any sort of practise at playing the field. The tense silence between us seemed almost too delicate to be shattered; a piece of glass wedged between us. I knew he felt it too, as he shifted almost nervously, debating with himself if he should talk, or get up and grab something to read as well.

I knew we only had precious minutes- about 8 to be specific- before one of our doctors would come in and ultimately break the awkward exchange by taking us into the counselling rooms. I heard him swallow hard from across the room. I'm sure he heard my breathing quicken. I was trying with excruciating effort to get my body and mind to calm down. The last thing I wanted was to faint in the middle of my shrink's office in front of the guy I had the most mind numbing crush on. All I had to do was say hi. All I had to do was say something to break the ice. All I had to do was say-

"Hi."

I looked up. I stared at him uncomprehendingly. His face sported an almost timid half-smile. When our eyes met, he glanced quickly at his hands, then at the wall, laughing incredulously at himself under his breath. If I hadn't been so completely focused on him in that moment, I don't think I would have caught it. But I was entranced.

"Don't say much, huh? Sorry…I just…wanted to ease the apprehension."

"N-no! I mean, um, hi. I…sorry." My stammering reply would have made even Relena wince. I felt like a little girl, overwhelmed that someone like him would want to speak to me.

What a sight we must have been. I think it's an understatement to say I was blushing. I could feel the heat radiate through my cheeks and spread all the way up to my ears. It had been happening a lot lately. I never used to blush, except for when Solo would whisper in my ear. He had been sweet that way. But I don't think I'd ever reacted like this. The thought sent a little twinge of guilt inside me, for Solo's sake. I suppose it was still part of the healing process. Then again, so was this man.

"Chicken Pox." Were the next two words he said to me. It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about, even with his hand gesture towards the magazine that still sat in my lap.

"Oh…uhuh." I lifted it a bit; an affirmation that I was now following. "Thank God, I've already had them." Yes! A clear and concise sentence! Progress was being made.

"Rough. I never had them."

"Ah." The conversation was dying. I had nothing to say. I was so afraid to sound stupid. I was so afraid I would mess things up.

The door to the counselling rooms opened and a petite, raven haired woman (who I immediately assumed was Dr. Noin) stepped into the waiting room.

"Punctual as usual." She said, upon seeing him sitting patiently in the seat. "Come on in."

Perhaps it was my imagination, but he shot me an apologetic glance as he stood and followed her through the door. When it was shut firmly behind them I all but threw the magazine across the room.

"Chicken Pox??" I muttered to myself bitterly.

Our first conversation had been about the chicken pox.

* * *

_AN: OKAY! See, I'm working into it! Seeee Heero DOES speak. _

_Read and review if you love this story. and me. ;)_


	7. Ramble

Break My Fall

Chapter 7 : Ramble

* * *

**RATING: R**

**WARNINGS**: **shounen-ai / yaoi (in later chapters) death, angst, OOC, AU**

**PAIRINGS: 1x2, 2 6, past Duo x Solo**

**AUTHOR NOTES: **_Alright I'm going to need to apologize for the extremely short chapter...well... now that I think of it, it's longer than the last one. ANYHOO. Rushing to get this chapter done before the school year starts and whatnot. Finally, Heero has some useful dialogue. Ugh. He's failed at life up to now. Anyways, please enjoy! And read and review please!_

* * *

I was clueless. I always had been and it seemed like I was doomed to stay clueless for the rest of my life. I was a naïve boy, lost in the world of emotions. My childhood had been wrought with confusion and part of my abandonment issues stemmed from never knowing who was completely genuine in their caring of me. Each pair of foster parents said the same words to me when I first arrived. Usually something along the lines of "We're different than the other foster parents," and "We'll love you like you were our own son." Can you imagine hearing that, trusting those words every single time, only to be betrayed? Only to be sent back, like a Christmas present that nobody wants. Because I was so bewildered about what people really felt, it took physical evidence to make me understand. Perhaps that's why I took to Solo so easily. Perhaps he understood that the only way I'd ever realize our mutual adoration for each other was to show me. In this predicament, I'd never known the process that was courtship. I wasn't as familiar to flirting and teasing as any regular person. I could do it, sure. But I certainly wasn't sharp when I was the one being flirted with. Words are frail things and have a myriad of different meanings. It should be a total miracle that I was able to function in modern society at all.

"Duo, have you taken your lunch break yet? Have lunch with me." I blinked at the blonde man as he stood amidst the grease covered tool benches, looking as pristine as a freshly bleached handkerchief. If there was one thing Zechs always accomplished, it was looking immaculate.

"I already had my lunch break," I replied. "About an hour ago." I should have known Zechs was not to be denied. I had been working at Merquise Auto Body Shop for almost a month and had settled into the routine quite nicely. In the weeks I'd been working for him, I had come to realize just how spoiled the older man was. When things didn't go according to his plan, he would throw a mini temper tantrum. Depending on the weight of what he was asking, the tantrums ranged from simply stomping around the shop to knocking things over and yelling at his employees. But he hadn't yelled at me. At least, not yet.

A slight pout came over his handsomely sharp features at my decline, only to be wiped away when I attempted to give him an apology. I had also learned Zechs didn't give up after only the first try.

"You may have had lunch," he said, approaching me to lean on the car I was standing in front of "but I'm absolutely starved. I don't want to eat alone! It's so boring eating alone. It'll only be for a couple of minutes. Wufei can hold down the fort while you're upstairs with me."

"I don't know how happy he'll be to hear that I've taken off." I said warily, knowing full well that I was more frightened of Wufei than I was of Zechs. But the blonde was having none of it.

"Wufei is a stubborn ass." With a sweep of his arm behind my shoulders, I found myself being ushered quickly out of the shop and into the office staircase. I would just have to deal with the Chinese man when I came back downstairs, though I wasn't particularly looking forward to it. This wasn't the first time I'd been whisked off during my work hours by the older man but my face became hot all the same. I'd become more comfortable in my place in the world and slowly I could feel my shell begin to disappear. Zechs had that sort of effect on people. He hated it when he never garnered reactions from people, especially when he was trying to spark a conversation. I still felt twinges of uneasiness occasionally while in his presence, but I just dismissed them as nothing important.

I'm surprised every time that Zechs lets me even step foot near his apartment, let alone inside it. Even if I was fully washed and I hadn't been working, I felt sort of like a ball of dust that was unwelcome in such a clean and polished environment. His home was much bigger than mine; a two bedroom, two bathroom ensemble that also included a full size kitchen, huge living room and office. All the walls were painted light blue (which, to my personal embarrassment, reminded me of his eyes) and the furniture black, accented with white. The hardwood floors gleamed with fresh polish and the counters in the kitchen screamed wealth in black marble. I was in a lesser league than the owner of the establishment, and that fact oozed out of every pore in my body. The only thing out of place was me.

Zechs sauntered into his kitchen, looking like the perfect finishing touch to the décor. He motioned for me to sit on a stool on the opposite end of the marble island as he tied an apron around his waist.

"What'll it be today Duo?" He asked playfully. I knew my opinion wouldn't really matter and he'd just make whatever he wanted anyways, but I was obliged to answer.

"Grilled cheese sandwich." I replied. Zech's comical look of horror gave me slight satisfaction.

"Grilled cheese? What is this? A welfare house? No way. Today we're going to have fajitas and or quesadillas!" With that, he turned around, facing his stove while flipping a long wooden spoon in the air. I sighed. That's just the way Zechs was. His way or the highway.

"So Duo," Zechs said conversationally while stirring the chicken in the frying pan, " are you getting the hang of daily life? Everything a-ok with you, right?"

"Sure."

"Wufei's not too much of a hard ass is he? I know he can be a bitter little son of a bitch."  
I blinked at the venom contained in his lightly veiled words. It had been in the form of a question, but Zechs was definitely trying to tell me something about my colleague. He had said it with barely a hint of anger in his voice, but the statement had been brought on by nothing. It wasn't to go unexamined by me.

"Uh no…not unreasonably so. He just wants me to learn, that's all."  
"Oh is it now?"

"I guess. To be honest, I think he wants me to learn so I'm not in his hair all the time."

"That's the way he is with everyone. I'm just worried he'll be extra bitter with you."  
I cocked my head at this statement. "What? Why?"

Zechs turned to face me to give his answer. "It's because you're so damn cute."

I believe firmly that there is no living or working for Zechs if you hate being playful. I'd learned that you go nowhere if you couldn't keep up with his banter- or at least react to it. However, the serious look on his face as he said his piece was a whole new person. The chicken was sizzling away behind him, but his gaze remained focused solely on me. It was awkward. It was thrilling. It made me squirm like a toddler that didn't want to be held.

"Duo," the blonde's voice had become nothing but a whisper, ignoring the small tendrils of smoke coming from the pan on the stove. His hand moved to cup my cheek softly. I swallowed hard. Things were going much too fast. I was frozen in my place by those icy eyes and I just watched it all go by, unable to stop it.

"Burning…" I finally managed to croak out.

"Huh?"

"Zechs, it's burning! The pan is burning!"

He whirled around with a soft curse under his breath, moving the hot cookware under the steady stream from the tap. The smell of charred meat filled the air, but that wasn't what had sucked the breath out of my lungs. It was the close encounter with the older man. It was the fact that I had felt crushed under the weight of his stare. At the time I couldn't interpret whether I had felt excited or smothered; I assumed they were one in the same. My heart had pounding so rapidly that I could have sworn he heard it. My stomach had twisted itself into a knot, curling and bunching beyond my control. I felt slightly sick and cradled my torso with care.

"I think I'm going to go back downstairs." I said as nonchalantly as I could manage with the blonde man letting loose a long string of swears.

"Whatever." He said gruffly, scrubbing the blackened chicken from the surface of the pan. I excused myself without another word, hoping to avoid what looked to be the beginning of one of his tantrums.

When I got downstairs, Wufei was sitting on the hood of the beaten up Ford we'd been working on all day, tapping his foot and looking very impatient. I sheepishly approached him, his black eyes staring daggers at me the whole while.

"Wufei, I-"

"Save it, Maxwell. I've had it with you and Zechs just running off without telling me! You're here to learn, not to frolic with some promiscuous scumbag who just happens to be our boss. I don't care if he threatens to stomp and whine and scream! He barely runs this goddamn business, but he uses the power to run around with his flavour of the month." Today, the Chinese man was fed up. I could see his face visibly redden as he ranted at full volume. Thankfully there were no customers waiting, otherwise they would have gotten an eyeful. And an earful for that matter.

Wufei Chang was one of those guys who would raise hell over nothing in the middle of a public place. He had no sense of privacy, and absolutely no sense of tact. Despite his verbal abuse, I never really hated the guy. I could understand the need to vent frustrations, and he had a good point. How was I supposed to learn anything if I kept getting distracted by the older man? I just wish Wufei could have found an appropriate time or place to yell at me. I remembered what Zechs had told me up in his apartment. Wufei would be extra bitter to me because I'm…well…cute?

I think that was the moment when I realized that there was more going on in the shop than the two men let on. I was curious as to why they both spoke daggers of each other, but never face-to-face. Wufei was short tempered with the older man, while Zechs always brushed the Chinese man off. I could feel a tension mounting in the shop that I wasn't sure I was comfortable with.

Tuesdays since the Chicken Pox incident had become incredibly disappointing. It was as if fate had dangled him in front of me and then yanked him out of my reach. Two weeks in a row he didn't even come and left me hanging high and dry otherwise. When he did show up, he ignored me straight out, becoming immediately engrossed in whatever magazine caught his eye. I felt sort of hurt at his lack of attention on me. After such an intense encounter, it was like he'd suddenly become bored of me. I could feel my self-esteem crush under the weight of his denial of me. So when I walked into the waiting room the Tuesday after Zech's fajita tantrum, I was honestly not expecting much.

The room was dead silent. Not even the popping of Relena's grape flavoured gum was present. It was empty too, so I immediately assumed he was late again or wasn't coming. These visits – which were already the highlight of my week- had also become an addiction. I craved the anticipation and the constant wondering if he'd come or not. With this strange man in the waiting room of my psychiatrist's office, it was like I'd finally connected with someone for the first time since Solo's death. I mean, sure, I'd talk to others and have relationships, but never the soul-crushing sparks that flew between he and I. The fact that he was acting as if he hadn't felt the same could have been enough to send me over the edge into insanity.

I took my usual seat, though I couldn't stop my leg from bouncing with excitement. My hands were clasped on my lap, ready to wring the pulse right out of the digits. When I heard his familiar footsteps I almost cried out with joy. Every time he made an appearance, it was like he sucked the whole world into a vortex in which I was the only one who could see him. This was a very enigmatic creature that stood before Relena's desk, doing a very good job of pretending I didn't exist. Before that moment, I didn't know it was possible to feel both relieved and frustrated at the same time. He turned and kept his eyes on the cover of a novel that he'd brought with him. Taking his seat, he opened it and began to read. I stared unabashedly at him, disorientated by the fact that he was insisting on keeping up the act.

Perhaps it was because he could feel me staring, or because he was casting his own curious glance my way, that he looked up and our eyes locked for the first time in weeks. I observed that the knuckles that held the book were white; something I had failed to notice earlier. He seemed to be restraining himself. There was visible tension in his shoulders and a set look of concentration in his eyebrows. I took a deep breath inward and flushed at finally succeeding in regaining the connection I knew was there. I was starting to be able to understand the emotions as they played their way through his eyes. The only problem was, now that I'd gotten his attention, I hadn't thought up anything to talk about.

"Got something to say?" He asked finally, lowering his book to his lap.

"What? No! Why would I?"  
"You just look like you wanted to say something to me."

I already didn't like the way the conversation was going. Why was it that I always allowed myself to let others take command while talking? I hadn't intentionally become such a suck-up…

"I just…uhm…how have you been?" I mentally slapped myself. Stupid question. So stupid. He looked at me as if I'd just hopped up on my chair and started howling like a monkey.

"How have I been? Isn't that a little too familiar?" He asked. Amusement was edging its way onto his features, tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Usually, you make small talk like that after you've gotten to know someone better."

"Well, maybe I would know you better if you hadn't been ignoring me these past few weeks."

"You don't even know my name. Why are you jumping to these conclusions?" he closed the book and set it beside him, now completely facing me.

I groaned. I definitely didn't like the way this conversation was going.

"I just thought…we see each other here almost every week, so I-I just assumed that…" I faded out. I had no idea what I'd assumed. What did I want from him? He had a point. Just because we both frequent the same doctor's office shouldn't mean it was necessary to get familiar. I just couldn't ignore that connection. I didn't want to ignore it. And I didn't want him to ignore me.

He ran a hand through his tousled locks, exhaling as he would if he were smoking a cigarette. It was a weird conversation to be having, I could give him that much. But nothing about my life had been normal. Maybe I was just used to having bizarre discussions.

"Heero." He said.

"Hm?"

"That's my name. You want to get familiar? Lets get familiar."

I grinned from ear to ear. "Heero…HEEro. HeeRO." Trying the name out on my tongue felt really good, like I'd just broken through a small, but tough wall. I could see his cheeks flush slightly on his already olive-coloured complexion. This man – Heero- attempted to cover up the fact that he was bashful.

"So what's your name?" He asked after a loud clearing of his throat.

"Oh…I'm Duo."

Heero gave a soft, subtle smile. "It's nice to meet you Duo."

I could feel my heartbeat quicken as he said my name. Was this how he had felt when I had done the same? I got the feeling that Heero hadn't really wanted to ignore me. He had no real air of hostility, but more one of caution. Usually, I too would have wanted to practise some discretion in talking to him, but he seemed to make things easier. For the rest of the small span of time we had together, we talked nonchalantly about the weather and small menial things. With Heero, I became talkative and it seemed like I was yammering without end, not letting him get a word in edgewise. When I brought it up, he simply shrugged and told me he liked listening to me speak. That comment alone had me blushing to the tips of my toes. I sensed the start connection that was more than just one of the eyes. I was searching for a soul mate when I didn't even realize it. Solo had been mine, but perhaps he was only one of many possibilities. I knew he would have wanted me to look for someone else to support me, just so long as his memory was engraved in the chambers of my heart.

At the moment when I was called in to Doctor Po's office, Heero had invited me for coffee after our appointments the following Tuesday.

Only a crazy man would have passed it up.

* * *

_AN: OKAY! Heero's appearence! And did he ask Duo out for Coffee as friends or on a daAAaate? Thats for me to know and you to find out by continuing to read BREAK MY FALL._

_READ AND REVIEW BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!_


	8. Reel

Break my Fall

Chapter 8 - Reel

* * *

**RATING: R**

**WARNINGS**: **shounen-ai / yaoi (in later chapters) death, angst, OOC, AU**

**PAIRINGS: 1x2, 2x6, past Duo x Solo**

**AUTHOR NOTES: **_It has been far too long, and I apologize. Sometimes life just gets in the way and I get too carried away and forget I have people waiting for a new chapter. This has been months coming (since July I think) and I feel very ashamed that I haven't gotten it finished sooner. The last bits were thrown together rather late at night, so I hope they suffice! READ AND REVIEW PLZ. Love you all! _

* * *

The smell of freshly ground coffee permeated the air. It's always been a warm and personal scent to me; it helps me feel relaxed even if the caffeine makes me jittery. The shop was small and cozy with low ceilings, dark brown walls and huge leather booths to sit in. Couches mapped out sections and the way they were arranged in circles around low coffee tables scattered with tabloids and coasters made it feel homey. The windows were decorated with heavy, chocolate coloured drapery and it set an almost rustic, cottage-y atmosphere. People were either talking quietly with their peers or reading or typing away on laptops. I however, sat alone. I didn't mind it too much; I was cradling my own drink and pretending to be preoccupied in a Sports Illustrated. I was waiting for him; for Heero. Our agreement had been to meet here, in his favourite coffee shop and hang out, so to speak. I had no idea what we would talk about or what "hanging out" entailed, but just the chance to see him outside of Dr. Po's office was enough to make me come running. I could feel warm air sooth my jumpy nerves. There was no guarantee he would even show up- a small worry in the back of my mind that had been eating at my nerves since I'd gotten up that morning.

I had been cheery this morning. It's usually a stretch for me; I'm not exactly a morning person. Most days I'd much rather huddle under my covers and sleep until way past noon. I was not usually afforded that luxury unless it was my day off. I wandered down to the shop a couple hours before noon with a smile on my face. Wufei wasn't there to grill me about my mood and I thanked god it was Tuesday. When I arrived at Dr. Po's office, Heero was already there, about to be called into the counselling rooms. Since he was paying for Dr. Noin's time, he simply slipped me a piece of paper with an address and a time scrawled in his unique handwriting; it was the coffee shop. So after a rather calm and uneventful meeting with my own doctor, I practically sprinted to it in glee and excitement. Anticipation always sucks when you're feeling it, but really it just makes everything seem so much sweeter. I flipped the pages of the magazine aimlessly, only scanning its glossy pages with much disinterest and tapping my foot against the floor. It had been almost 15 minutes…NO! I didn't want to think that way. Heero had suggested it and I felt deep in my heart that I could trust him. The sincerity in his eyes gave me a comfort I hadn't felt in a long time. I hadn't known him long, but sometimes it happens faster than your mind can even comprehend.

"Have you been waiting long?" came his familiar voice. I nearly jumped at his sudden appearance; I had been too far away in my thoughts. I stumbled for words and couldn't seem to come up with anything coherent. I merely settled for shaking my head and grinning up at him like an idiot. Heero slid into the booth across from me, taking off his jacket at the same time in one fluid motion. I couldn't help but stare. Even the simplest of his motions seems to be ghostlike- simple and effortless. He turned back to me and I found myself bashful and blushing like a schoolgirl who'd just confessed her feelings. I didn't know what to say to fill a silence between us that was growing awkward in length. I fingered the corners of the Sports Illustrated while trying to look anywhere but at his face, praying that he couldn't notice my cheeks redden in the low light.

"Sorry about taking such a long time." He said, doing his part to break the stifling nervous tension.

"Its ok. I mean, well, you don't need to apologize. You know, you're paying for the time with your doctor right? Why not use it up, you know? Take as long as you need because you're not paying for time with me. Oh…wow that sounded bad. Uh." Rambling. Always a nice touch. Good job Duo, you're making a huge fool out of yourself. Heero just smiled and shook his head, looking down at the table.

"You should calm down." Heero stated. "Being in an agitated state isn't good for your blood pressure."

"W-what?"

Heero pointed to the article my magazine was still opened to. "There. Top 10 Secrets for a Healthy Heart." His grin got wider. "Number 6."

"O-oh." I bit my lower lip. "I guess I need to work on that then."

"I'll say."

Now I shared his smile. The tension eased and I began to feel more comfortable in our situation. He ordered his favourite specialty coffee and we sat and talked about nothing in particular. You could say it was bonding because at first none of the topics were really very personal. Again I found myself yammering on and on about things that weren't important. Something about Heero brought out the inner chatterbox. It felt like I could pour my heart out without a care and he would have gladly accepted it. He just looked at me with the faintest of smiles, adding his two cents whenever he felt it was needed. I talked about cars, my new job, the orphanage and everything I could think of. Naturally I strategically avoided Solo; the last thing I wanted was for Heero to think I was hung up over a passed lover. It was true of course, but I didn't want him to know about it. At least not yet. He just would nod and sip at his drink, focused solely on me. When our eyes met, my heart felt like it was in a vice grip; a feeling I was starting to get used to the more time I spent around him.

Feeling guilty about again dominating all conversation flow, I tried to provoke him into a topic. He chuckled and said something nonchalant. I insisted. So did he.

"Duo, you can just talk. You're animated and intense when you speak, so I like to listen. Anything I say would be dull in comparison."

"But listening is what I pay Dr. Po to do. I want to know about you too. You have got to say more than 'yeah' every two seconds."

"Shall I throw in an 'uh-huh' and mix things up a bit?"

"Oh, now you're just being a dick."

He laughed. I laughed. My heart swelled to a billion times its regular size.

"Well," he said calmly, placing his mug on the table and folding his hands on his lap, "What do you want to know about me?"

"Lets start with where you're from. The city? The country?"

"I was born in Asia. Japan, actually." He said simply. "My mother and father moved here when I was barely five years old. We've been moving all over the place. When my father died, mom and I decided just to stick around this place. I didn't really care where we went. And now here I am."

I was grinning from ear to ear at his response. It was the longest string of words he'd said since I'd met him.

"What?" he asked.

"I knew you had more to say."

He laughed. So did I. Our coffee "date" lasted a little longer than just one cup.

The repair shop was as empty as I had left it, but I barely took notice because I was walking on clouds. Heero and I talked for what seemed like a millennia and by the end of the afternoon I felt like we'd known each other for just as long. His face was imprinted in my mind, his eyes stuck to my soul. I danced through the office and up the stairs to my apartment, unaware of anything but the bliss I felt at the day's events. As I was about to insert the key into my door, I heard a chuckle.

"Someone had a good day today, I see."

I whirled around to see Zechs in the hall not far behind me. He'd startled me slightly, yet the racing of my heart didn't stop. I couldn't identify it, but it wasn't the same speeding beat of excitement I felt when I was with Heero. It was different with Zechs. It was more uneasy. The blonde man was intimidating, that much was certain. I wrote it off as only that, even when I should have paid attention to the pounding more.

"Ah yeah!" I replied with a beaming smile. Was it overcompensation? Probably. "Dr. Po's a great woman!"

"I bet she is!" His voice retained the silky smoothness it always seemed to have around me. "You've been there all afternoon. Do you have a little crush on your doctor, Duo?" He was now leaning on the wall directly next to my door, arms folded in front of him, smirking down at me.

"What?! No! I don't…" I stumbled, "I don't think of her in that way. Not at all."

"Well then, why did it take you five hours to accomplish what you usually do in one?"

Did I know why I had to explain myself to Zechs? The answer is no. I should have been able to guess. I couldn't. I didn't even realize he was grilling me. I was too jittery.

"I-I, uh- "Don't tell him about Heero! It's none of his business! "I went to visit the orphanage. You know Father Maxwell. I was checking up!"

His icy eyes stared at me, trying to bore a hole into my skull. After a minute or so, he seemed to accept my excuse as truth.

"Yeah, he is quite the worry wart sometimes. I agree." His hand found its way to the top of my head and ruffled the hair playfully. "Next time, stop in here first, I can give you a ride. We'll see the old man together!"

"Uh, sure thing Zechs!" I pushed my key into the hole and turned the knob, letting myself in. Before I could close the door, however, Zechs called out to me again.

"Duo! If you're not doing anything for dinner, you come over! I'm making duck!"

"I'm not really hungry, but if I am later I'll come by, okay?"

"Of course, babe." He winked at me and whisked himself to his own apartment. I shut the door with a sigh and found myself immediately locking the deadbolt. I sunk to the floor with my back against the solid wood, one hand smoothing out my rumpled head of hair. I had absolutely no intention of going over to Zechs'. None whatsoever.

"Maxwell! Get your ass back over here and finish up what you were doing!" Wufei's harsh voice pierced the air in the repair shop like a knife. The rather small man could be extremely shrill when he wanted to be. I gulped down the last swig of soda from my lunch and raced to the car the two of us were working on.

"Sorry Wufei, I was just on lunch brea-"

"I don't care." He cut me off. "You shouldn't be getting such long lunch breaks. You've barely worked here two months. Not to mention you left your fucking tools scattered about like an idiot!"

His words stung a little bit, as they usually did. I may have only been working at the shop for under two months, but I'd quickly learned to disregard a lot of what the Chinese man said. Zechs constantly told me that Wufei was full of hot air and was best ignored. It was best to just let him blow off steam and yelling at me was the best way for him to do it. I think this is what helped me the most during those long afternoons with him. I didn't dislike him. On the contrary, he was a fantastic mechanic who could work miracles with even the most stubborn of engines. I don't think I could have learned as much with anyone else. I often wondered why he was still and apprentice. He worked without shadowing either of the other two fully licensed mechanics that were employed at Merquise Body Shop. Instead of dislike, I felt more exasperation towards him. That's how I knew he was about to go into another one of his rants.

"Fuckin' ridiculous." He mumbled. That's how he usually started. "I've been working here for years! My parents wanted me to go to medical school! I wanted to work with cars! If I had known that I'd be a fucking apprentice for the rest of my life, teaching a little shithead how to do the most basic things ever, I'd have said 'fuckit' and done what my parents wanted. At least I'd be getting somewhere in life. I was an A student, Maxwell! Straight A's! Yale and Harvard were at my door, begging for me to attend! What did I do? I turned them down to come to this hellhole! Are you listening to me Maxwell? YALE AND HARVARD! Full scholarships! Hey! Fuck medical school! I could have been the CEO of some bigwig company! Instead I'm wiping grease off those CEO's tires and kissing the ground Zechs walks on. That's just bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit! You know?"

He poked his head out from behind the hood of the car and looked at me. Our eyes met and I shrugged. There was no right answer. There was no real reply. His top lip curled up and he made a small angry grunt in the back of his throat before disappearing behind the hood again.

"When you're done replacing the tailpipe, you can go. I'll do the rest myself. I don't need yer stupid ass getting in the way."

"Alright." I said and got back to work, remembering to gather my tools where Wufei wouldn't trip over them. He didn't need another reason to rant.

After a few minutes of complete silence, it was broken by a smooth voice.

"Ooh boys! I sure got quiet in here! Was there a fight?" The bright, white man floated into the room with grandeur, arms spread wide. "I can't have any arguments while working boys! Its bad for business! Who wants to walk into a shop for a repair when the workers are screeching like rabid cats?"

"Oh look at the prince, down from his tower!" Wufei scoffed, wiping his brow bone with a hand slicked with black grease. Zechs' nose wrinkled.

"Very funny, Fei. You're so witty. So charming, that I could be entertained by a grease monkey."

"Fuck you, pretty boy."

"Wufei, may I speak to you in private?" The air in the room got mind numbingly cold. Wufei stood up straight, almost puffing out his chest in defiance at our big boss. Zechs had a few heads on the smaller Chinese man, but they stared each other down for what seemed like ages. In what seemed like a bitter admittance to defeat, Wufei finally threw his wrench to the floor and stomped into the office cursing under his breath. Zechs followed calmly, shutting the door with a small click.

For the next hour, I heard nothing but Wufei's slightly muffled screams of anger and even quieter retorts from the blonde man.

Whatever was happening, I did not want to be involved. Unfortunately, I inevitably would be.

* * *

AN: Uh ohhhhhh. The plot thickens a bit? Please READ AND REVIEW (it helps motivate me) READ AND REVIW LOVELIES!


End file.
